


True Love Is So Rare

by justine472



Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-07-03 14:31:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 47,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15820815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justine472/pseuds/justine472
Summary: Serena has left Holby after Elinor's death and Bernie is determined to get on with her life, although struggling with her  loss and memories of Serena. Just as she is beginning to find a new self-confidence, Serena reaches out to her from a far-off place with an offer she can't refuse.





	1. Love is a ship we all hope to steer through troubled times, 'cross an ocean of tears

**Author's Note:**

> I was struggling with a new one-shot from my previous fic when I came across this half-finished story which I was suddenly inspired to revive. The title - and most chapter titles- are from Level 42's "Leaving Me Now". Here, Bernie is getting over Serena when she receives an intriguing summons. From this point the story goes completely AU as our ladies are reunited in an unexpected setting. All characters and institutions are fictional. I'm not a medical professional so please excuse any inaccuracies in descriptions of medical processes.

Bernie raised her head from her desk, having spent the best part of the last 2 hours on paperwork, and now she felt she had got on top of it. “That’ll show you, Serena Campbell,” she muttered gleefully, taking a swig of her now cold coffee. Then she stopped herself. Serena had been gone for more than 3 months and the hurt Bernie had endured during those interminable weeks following Elinor’s death, when Serena had pushed her away, still haunted her. While one part of her missed Serena terribly- the warmth, closeness of their relationship, the shared jokes, flirting, even her physical presence during the most horrendous nights when Serena would grip Bernie tightly and cry, or simply turn her back in bed and ignore her, nights when Bernie could not sleep for the anguish radiating from her partner, another part of Bernie was telling her to grow a shield, to get over it and move on. This morning when she had stepped outside her apartment and seen the flowers in bloom in gardens down the street, and felt the fresh softness of the summer air, she registered a streak of hope, of optimism pushing aside her habitual feeling of resignation and loss.

Work had also begun to absorb her again, in a good way. Once she and Ric had settled into a routine that both could live with, Bernie began to relax into her role and focus on what she did best – managing the trauma unit, even if the office looked like a tornado had passed through most of the time. She had even found a new physical therapist. Morven had embarked on a series of courses in massage therapy, and Bernie and their colleagues had celebrated her passing her Level 3 Massage Certificate at Albie’s a month ago. Then 2 weeks later, Morven had seen Bernie grimacing as she made her way back to the nurse’s station.

 “Um, Bernie, I um, I see you are still having problems with your back.”

 “ Yup, that’ll teach me to try to lift a twenty-stone patient!” Bernie responded wryly.

 Morven continued “Only, I know Serena used to give you a massage, and how that helped..”, seeing Bernie’s frown at the mention of Serena, she gulped and went on “and I wondered if you might be interested in me giving you a massage, not replacing Serena or anything, but I …” 

At this point Fletch, seeing Bernie’s face, interjected “Morven’s just done an Advanced  Workshop on Understanding Lower Back Pain, and she’s amazing.. she sorted my back for me last week when I pulled a muscle gardening”.

 “Oh really? Well it’s not so bad at the moment, so let’s see how we go.” Bernie didn’t seem convinced, and Morven, knowing Bernie was not a tactile person and had difficulty in accepting other hands on her, backed off. Two hours later, however, Bernie was nearly crying with pain after sitting with her paperwork, so she stuck her head round the door of her office “um, Morven, could you…?” Morven took the hint right away and came into the office, closing the door.

 “It’s OK, Bernie, let me help you, I bet you’ve stiffened up now, sitting there for so long. Let me get my stuff. Do you want to stay here or go to the on-call room?”

 “Here is fine”, Bernie said. “Just close the blinds”.

 Morven went to her locker and returned with several small bottles. She had Bernie remove her scrub top and sit leaning forward onto the table. Then, carefully warming her hands and applying a small amount of oil, she began touching the painful area of Bernie’s lower back. Bernie could immediately sense that Morven knew what she was doing. Within a few minutes, her skilful fingers had begun unknotting the muscle spasm, and Bernie relaxed into the massage, relieved to have found someone as skilled as Serena, but without the sexual element. She found that she didn’t mind Morven touching her, and by the time Morven had finished, 20 minutes later, Bernie had made up her mind.

 “OK Morven, you have a new role. I want to book you for a massage once a week, and more often if I have pain. What’s your rate?”

 “Oh..I c-couldn’t charge you, Bernie!” Morven stuttered, blushing.

 “Nonsense! I’m hiring you as my personal therapist on a weekly basis”. And so it started. Bernie found that by having a 1 hour weekly massage, she got less tense during the week and felt much better in herself. Morven grew in confidence, and it wasn’t long before people from other wards started coming to book massages with Morven.

 “Ha ha, you should open your own clinic”, Raf said, “but for God’s sake don’t let Hanssen catch you running a private business in working time”. That was how Morven came to give Bernie her massage at home, often on a Saturday or Sunday morning, when neither were on shift, and afterwards Bernie would make lunch for them and they would sit and chat like old friends.

 To Bernie’s surprise, she was also acquiring a sense of housekeeping in her new apartment. Serena had given Bernie her house keys and told her to use the house as if it were her own. However, the memories of those last few months were so bitter that Bernie could barely bring herself to cross the threshold. The day Serena left, she had returned to the house and spent all day crying and reliving the terrible moments she had endured with a grieving Serena. She drank a bottle of Shiraz that she found in a cupboard, and the remains of a bottle of whisky and crashed out, exhausted. When she woke up, she emptied the bins, switched everything off, locked up and left. The bills were paid by direct debit and Serena had cancelled all her subscriptions, so there was no further reason to stay in the house. Bernie then took three days off work and focused on finding a new apartment. Luckily she had kept the small utility flat she had first rented after her divorce, so she had had somewhere to go on the nights that Serena had shut her out, but the flat was characterless, and reeked of loneliness and despair; she couldn’t bear to stay there. The new apartment was a third floor flat in a smart town house that had been divided into 4 units. Bernie had the whole floor. There were parquet floors in the living room and a large bay window. On a clear day she could see a glimpse of the river. The kitchen was what had made Bernie take the flat- it had been recently renovated in a classy, modern way, with warm, bright colours, a compact, range-type stove and a breakfast bar with stools. Bernie had never been a truly inventive cook, but she could knock out a roast and she had a few dinner party dishes – like Jason’s favourite Beef Wellington- that she could see herself attempting on her new cooker.

She found herself tidying up when she got home in the evenings, making shopping lists and planning meals. She bought a dishwasher and got into the habit of setting it to run at night, and unloading it in the morning when she got up. She called Charlotte and asked her to bring some of her old cookery books from Marcus’ house, and they sat and went though Delia Smith and Nigel Slater, planning imaginary dinner parties and giggling over how Bernie could mess it up.  She even went to Ikea and invested in some rugs, cushions and throws (ideas borrowed from the Serena Campbell school of interior design!). To everyone’s surprise, however, not least Bernie’s, she began inviting people over for meals- not takeaways- and more often than not the dishes turned out well. Morven raved about the salmon and broccoli quiche she made for their lunch one day. She started with Jason, Cam and Charlotte and Morven, then Raf and Essie turned up with Dom one Sunday lunchtime when she had offered “open house”- lunch for people on the late shift, morphing into dinner for those finishing the early shift. She hadn’t quite worked up to the Fletchlings, but Morven reckoned it was only a matter of time. And so Bernie’s new flat became a home from home for her children, Serena's nephew and her colleagues, and Bernie got used to having other people around, and enjoyed keeping it –reasonably-tidy and clean.

 Serena kept in touch only erratically and said very little about what she was doing, just touched base from wherever in the world she found herself.  Neither did she ask Bernie about her own life. It was almost as if the 2 months they had shared as lovers, partners, between Bernie’s return from Kiev and Elinor’s death, had been just a figment of Bernie’s imagination. Internally, Bernie grieved for the loss of her partner- the best relationship of her life, and the old Bernie talked in her head saying “You know that was too good to last. You were never going to keep her, you’re just rubbish at relationships”. The old Bernie also felt guilty that she had been unable to console Serena over the loss of her child, that she had failed miserably to take Serena’s pain, to hold her steady until the crisis of grieving had passed. Guilty that she had failed to see just how abusive Serena’s relationship with Jasmine was becoming. Guilty, even, for God’s sake, that her own children were still alive. The strain had been too much even for Bernie, and it had come to a head one night when they lay in the darkness, side by side, not touching, the silence between them like a void, and she, exhausted beyond words, unable to produce any more soothing and pointless utterances, had suddenly heard Serena say “You know, maybe if you hadn’t come back from Kyiv…” and she froze in horror as she mentally completed the thought _“..then Elinor would still be alive”._

 This is the point at which the old Bernie recoiled –from Serena, from the situation, even from herself. She was like someone stabbed through the heart. Though she did not cry- because she would not give Serena that satisfaction- she began at that moment to withdraw into her shell, to protect herself from Serena’s cruelty, knowing that Serena had crossed a line, and that Bernie could go no further with her down that road. The toughness that Bernie claimed could make her Serena’s punchbag was broken, and it was as if Serena had gone out of her way to prove that Bernie could still be hurt. That night, Bernie did not utter a word. She looked hard at Serena when she had spoken, and Serena continued to stare ahead, not meeting Bernie’s gaze, but her eyes filled with tears and after a while, she turned on her side, sobbing painfully. For once Bernie did not reach out to comfort her. The instinct to do so stuck in her chest and she felt her lip tremble with the effort to keep still, and to keep her emotion inside.  She turned on her side and feigned sleep. In the morning, Bernie got up first, showered and dressed and silently made coffee for Serena. When Serena came downstairs, pale but made up and dressed for work, she thanked Bernie for the coffee and said “Bernie, I’m so sorry about what I said last night. I..I went too far. Please forgive me”. And Bernie hung her head and responded “We’ll say no more about it”, but what hurt her more than anything, more even than the words themselves, was that Serena didn’t say “ _I didn’t mean it”._

 In her mind, when she thought back to that night, Bernie sensed that she was  beginning to split in two. She stayed loyal to Serena until she left, never uttering a word against her, protecting her as much as she could. When she ran up the staircase and forced the door to the roof, she was terrified that Serena might have ended her own life, terrified for her own as much as Serena’s sake. For what would Bernie be if Serena were not there, and how much more guilt would she feel if she were unable to prevent Serena from killing herself? When Serena told her she was leaving, Bernie had already sensed what was coming and in a strange way, she was almost relieved: the situation had reached breaking point in more ways than one. The old Bernie was a burnt -out husk, tortured by the weight of her own guilt and Serena’s grief, and by the idea- always now in her head- that Serena would have preferred to have Elinor alive rather than be with Bernie. But the morning after Serena’s departure, when Bernie walked out of her house for the last time, a new little voice inside her head was saying “Come on, Wolfe, one foot in front of the other. You can do this. Have some dignity, for God’s sake”. And she knows that the new voice was conceived the night that Serena broke down the old Bernie’s last defences, rising from the ashes, so to speak. She still loved Serena- she would always love Serena- but from now on she vowed to value herself more, and Serena would have to win her back.

When the first WhatsApp message came from Serena to say she had arrived in Marseilles and had rented an apartment on AirBnB, Bernie’s first instinct was to write back words of love and support; but the new little voice in her head got in on the act, so she just texted “Have a good time and keep safe x”. Since then, she had received five messages from Serena. One had a photo- of the Sydney Opera House-when she arrived in Australia. The messages were chatty but emotionally empty, and Bernie knew now to go carefully, and keep her own messages just as bland, not giving anything away. Serena’s messages had started getting above the single sentence recently, and Bernie kept up the conversation, sometimes messaging before Serena had written back with a line to keep the thread between them alive. She had taken to tracking Serena’s movements with the weather app on her phone, so when she saw that the temperature in Melbourne (Serena’s latest destination) was 13 degrees, on a day when it was 22 degrees in Holby, she dropped her a line:

_Hi, how’s Melbourne? Weather here getting nicer, but you seem to be having a cold spell._

 The response came 24 hours later and Bernie was surprised:

_I’m actually in Ho Chi Minh City- Saigon as the locals call it! Long story- cousin works here and invited me. Ran into them while they were on hols in Melbourne last week. Too good to be true! Just woken up, first day, hot as hell – more later. x_

 


	2. I was so sure, now I'm so full of doubt.  Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena wakes up in Saigon and her first day is interrupted by bad news from Holby.

Serena comes slowly to consciousness with the warmth of the sun on her face, streaming through the gap in the curtains. The air seems heavy and the sounds from outside are unfamiliar. A bird chirping loudly, a bell ringing in the distance, a voice calling- almost singing- the same thing over and over again in an unfamiliar language.  She opens her eyes and moves her face on the pillow, feeling it wet beneath her cheek. Lifting her head and stretching her limbs she realizes that the wetness is from sweat, not tears. There is a fan rotating slowly on the ceiling and she rearranges her limbs and kicks off the sheet to let it blow cooling air on her bare skin. All this before the realization hits her that she is in Saigon, Vietnam, in the house of her cousin, Véronique. Looking at her watch Serena sees it is 9 am. Her head feels thick and muzzy, but her body is rested.

 15 minutes later, showered and in need of a caffeine fix, she wanders into the kitchen where Nick, Véro’s Australian husband, is trying to spoon pureed apple into the mouth of their 10 month old son, and fighting a losing battle.

 “G’morning, sleepyhead, ready for action?”

“Ready for coffee, that’s for sure”.

 Nick wipes puree off Joel’s face with a napkin, and leaves him waving his arms around, sitting in his high chair, as Nick reaches around to grab the coffee pot from the stove.

 “How do you like it?” he asks in a teasing voice.

“Hot and strong is all I care about!” Serena retorts. “Wow! I didn’t realize it would be so humid, I feel all fuzzy in the head”.

 “Always like this in the rainy season”, he comments. ‘Here you, go, black coffee- milk and sugar over there, help yourself, croissants in the bowl”.

 Serena  arrived from Melbourne yesterday evening after a 9 -hour, all day flight. Nick and Véro picked her up at the airport and they drove to the house in the dark, so all Serena had seen was that 30 minutes after leaving the airport they crossed a big bridge before heading down into the side streets. A couple of glasses of Australian Shiraz and some cheese and biscuits later and Serena felt her eyes closing mid-sentence. It was comical, this sudden shutdown, she kept jerking awake and forcing herself to concentrate, but the jet-lag won in the end. She doesn’t remember much about going to bed.

 “We didn’t put the air-con on in your room last night in case you felt too cold. It’s easy to catch a chill when the temperature fluctuates too much from the outside”, Nick explains, knowing that Serena has come from cool, wintery Melbourne, and the shock of 30 plus degrees is already enough.

 “That’s fine”, says Serena, breaking a croissant and dipping an end in her coffee,“ the fan is actually really nice, even the sound of it is relaxing”.

 “Yup, these villas were built by the French and they all come with these fantastic retro ceiling fans- hard to find elsewhere these days. Thank God they also have insect screens on all the windows- that means you can leave the window open at night without fear of being attacked by mozzies”.

 Serena looks around her- she is in a beautiful villa, obviously not newly built but decorated to a high standard in simple cream and earth shades. The kitchen has  terracotta floor tiles and real granite worktops with a big wooden table in the centre. It feels homely and comfortable.

 “OK, I’m gonna put this little fella down in his playpen- the home help will be here in a sec, then we can head out and do some sightseeing. We’re meeting Véro for lunch at 12.30, OK?”

 Serena happily agrees, but as she stands up, she suddenly feels her iPhone in her pocket and remembers she never logged onto the wifi. Getting the password from Nick, she activates the phone and immediately it starts beeping as messages come in on WhatsApp and Messenger. She looks first at the green icon- Bernie.

  _Hi, how’s Melbourne? Weather here getting nicer, but you seem to be having a cold spell._

 Well, Bernie’s in for a surprise- this trip to Saigon was a last minute decision and she hasn’t had time to catch Bernie up on all her doings yet.

  _I’m actually in Ho Chi Minh City- Saigon as the locals call it! Long story- cousin works here and invited me. Ran into them while they were on hols in Melbourne last week. Too good to be true! Just woken up, first day, hot as hell – more later.x_

The other messages are from Vero's  family in Australia checking that she has arrived safely, so she quickly texts back to reassure them. While she’s doing this, a slim, fresh-faced young woman with long, dark hair opens the back door and stops in her tracks when she sees Serena.

 “It’s OK, Tram”, Nick says from the living room, knowing Tram will be surprised to see a stranger, “this is Madame’s cousin from England”.

 The Vietnamese woman immediately breaks into a big smile and reaches out her hand to Serena.

 “Hello, Madame” she says, “I’m Tram. I help Mr Nick and Madame Véro with baby”.

 “Hello, Tram, I’m Serena. Do you prefer English or French?”

 “Oh English, my French very bad, but I study English at university”.

“Tram’s a qualified nurse”, Nick comes back into the kitchen to join the women, “but the pay is better working as a home help and child-minder”.

 “I finishing my exams, then I will apply big hospital, new French hospital, as nurse. Madame Véro, she know hospital director, and say she  help me”.

 “Serena’s a doctor, too- a famous surgeon”, Nick says, as Serena does an eye-roll.  Tram’s eyes go big and wide and she grins in pleasure.

 “Maybe you help me with studies”, she says shyly.

 “I’d be glad to”, says Serena, smiling back warmly.

 “OK guys, we have an Uber with an ETA of 7 minutes, so Serena, grab your stuff and we'll be off”.

 Serena races back to her room to use the bathroom, brush her teeth and stuff sunscreen, mozzie repellant and wet wipes into her handbag. She’s dressed in white capris and a lightweight polo shirt in aqua- the colour of her AAU scrubs, which Bernie loves on her. Slipping her feet into sandals and donning her new Ray-Bans, she meets Nick at the door and they set off. 

 After a tour of the Cathedral and the truly spectacular Post Office (who would think a Post Office could be a major tourist attraction?), they head for a nearby French-owned restaurant-café popular with the lunch crowd where  Véro has booked an upstairs  table, with views of the tree-lined street and a pleasant ambience despite the fact that every table is full and staff are running in all directions. Véro has a colleague from the French clinic sitting with her, and as Serena and Nick approach he stands up and introduces himself, kissing Serena on both cheeks.

 “Hi, I’m Pilou”, he says in an Australian accent.

Véro rolls her eyes. “Actually Jean-Philippe Huguet”, she says, “Surgeon and Tropical Medicine specialist”.

Serena looks amused “So what do I call you?” 

“Pilou is fine,” he says. “My parents are French, hence the nickname, and I grew up in Australia, weird but true!”

Pilou is mid-thirties, tall and muscular with short reddish –gold hair and clear eyes that alternate between blue and grey. He gives an impression simultaneously of innocence and naughtiness, and Serena can see immediately that she will hit it off with him.  Over red pepper soup, spinach and ricotta quiche and salad, the chat is lively, and Pilou’s blue-grey eyes often connect with Serena’s brown ones, warm with sympathy and mischievousness. Suspiciously well briefed, Pilou offers to get Serena a glass of Shiraz, but seeing as everyone else is on sparkling water, Serena decides against it, asking instead for a fresh coconut that she can see other customers drinking. It is, indeed, absolutely delicious and Serena resolves to forego the wine at lunchtime while she is here. While they are waiting for their espressos to come,  Serena excuses herself to the bathroom and Véro follows.

 “Did you tell him anything about why I’m here?” she asks Véro.

“Well, I may have mentioned the sabbatical, family tragedy etc.”, Véro says, somewhat embarrassed.

“I see", says Serena, “maybe that’s why he is looking at me as if he can see through me”.

Véro smiles. “Maybe”, she says and goes into the toilet.

 Over coffee, Pilou asks Serena if she would like to have dinner with him tomorrow and see something of Saigon and discover Vietnamese food. Serena agrees and they swap numbers. She wonders if he is hitting on her, but realizes that she likes his company anyway and will take her chances.

 After lunch, as Véro and Pilou return to the Centre Medical Français, where Vero is the Medical Director, Nick takes Serena on a winding walk down to the Saigon River, via the Opera House, the central shopping precinct and another café. “Tired yet?” Nick asks as he pays the bill and turns to leave the café.  “Hey, I’m not so old”, retorts Serena, “but I think the weather may be conspiring to interrupt our walk. Looking up, they see the sky getting darker by the second, and the wind, which has been howling around while they drank tea, has suddenly stilled.

 “Hey up”, Nick says, taking Serena’s arm and steering her into a doorway, and not a second too late as the rain starts, like a giant tap suddenly turned on, a cascade of water obscuring the view of the street. They fumble their way inside and find themselves in the foyer of a hotel and collapse on a sofa.

 “Jeez”, says Nick, “what a lucky escape! No chance of getting a taxi now until it eases off.” Not wanting more tea, they decide to sit and check their emails for a while, logging onto the hotel’s free wifi. Serena’s phone immediately beeps and two WhatsApp messages appear - Ric and Henrik. ‘Something wrong?” asks Nick, seeing her frown. “Not sure, but two messages from work in the space of a morning is odd, to say the least”. She clicks on the latest one- Ric, wondering what it can be.

  _Hi Serena, sorry to disturb your peace but something has happened I feel you should know about. Please call me when you can. Ric_.

 With an ominous feeling of dread, she clicks on Henrik’s message:

 Oh God, she thinks, please don’t let it be Bernie.

  _My dearest Serena. I am afraid I have some very bad news.  Our friend and colleague, Dr. Jasmine Burrows, died yesterday as the result of an accident. I feel it is my duty to inform you in case you wish to pay your respects. The funeral is on Friday – let me know if you would like me to order flowers on your behalf. I am so very sorry to have to tell you this. Please feel free to call me if you would like to talk. Henrik_

 “No”, Serena exclaims, simultaneously horrified to hear Jasmine has died, and relieved than nothing has happened to Bernie. “Oh my God!” She sits in shock as the news penetrates.

 “Bad news?” asks Nick. Serena just nods, feeling the tears welling up. She scrabbles in her handbag for a tissue, the full horror of it hitting her like a tsunami.

 “One of my colleagues died”, she sobs, as Nick passes her a pack of tissues, “and she was so young, oh my God”.

 “The rain is easing off, let’s get you home,” Nick says, and he runs outside to grab a city taxi. Within minutes, Serena is bundled into the car and they head back to the house.

 Serena is impatient to know exactly what happened to Jasmine so as they drive back she calls Ric, checking the time in the UK – it’s almost 9am.

 “Serena”, Ric greets her, but she jumps in “Ric, I had a message from Henrik that Jasmine died. What on earth happened?”

 “Yes, I did wonder if someone else would get to you first- it happened yesterday. It seems she fell while she had a scalpel in her pocket. By the time someone found her she had lost a lot of blood. Bernie, Henrik and I worked on her for six hours, but we couldn’t save her, it was too late.”

 “She fell? How on earth did she fall? And why did she have a scalpel in her pocket?”

 “It’s still a bit of a mystery, Serena”, says Ric. "We’re backtracking to try and find out what happened immediately prior to the event, but at present it's not clear”.

 Serena is silent for a moment as she digests this information. Then she says hesitantly, “And how is Bernie, Ric?”

 “She’s very cut up about it. I told her to take today off but she still showed up, soldiering on, you know what she’s like. But Serena, this has hit her very hard. Maybe you need to talk, it’s been several months and I know you’ve not been in touch much. Today she really needs a friendly voice.”

 “Yes, I see. If she can bear to talk to me, that is.”

 “Cut the woman some slack, Serena. She’s been a star. But I feel she may hesitate to call you herself because of what happened between you and Jasmine before you left. She may be afraid of upsetting you further”.

 “Right. OK, leave it with me, Ric, I’ll call her, I promise”.

 After disconnecting, Serena realized that Nick has overheard every word. He raises his eyebrows sympathetically.

 “Complications?”

 “Something like that”, Serena replies. Then, feeling she has been too abrupt, she says  “the colleague who died…there was some history, before I left. I was mentoring her and may have been rather hard on her.”

 “Ah….must make it worse”.

Serena just nods, feeling tears threatening to overwhelm her again.

 Once inside the house, she goes to her room and tries to decide who to call next. For some reason, she hesitates to call Bernie- she knows Bernie will be feeling extremely raw, guilty even, that she couldn’t save Jasmine, and for Serena there is the terrible memory of how badly she treated Jasmine, behaviour witnessed by Bernie. Instead she calls Henrik.

 “Serena, all I can say is that we are devastated, as you must surely be. The circumstances preceding Jasmine’s death are now part of an investigation, but as far as the clinical side is concerned, none of us could have tried harder. In fact, at a certain point, it almost seemed as if she was fighting us. “

Serena suppresses a sob, as Henrik continues. “Bernie is blaming herself, as you can probably imagine. But I can assure you, as I have assured her, that there was nothing more she could have done.”

 Serena then asks Henrik to order a wreath in her name for the funeral, and she hangs up. Her finger hovers for some time over Bernie’s number, then she retreats back to WhatsApp, thinking that maybe Bernie won’t want to talk.

  _So sorry to hear about Jasmine. If you feel like talking, give me a call. X_

Serena is therefore surprised when, two minutes later, her phone starts ringing, and Bernie’s name shows on the screen. It is with some trepidation that she swipes the green button.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. I was so sure, now I'm so full of doubt.  Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena talks to Bernie for the first time since leaving Holby. She has her dinner date with Pilou - could this be the start of a beautiful friendship?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouch, trying to do a final edit on this on an iPad while away from home- not ideal, so please excuse any typos that may have crept in.

 

“Serena?”, Bernie’s voice is tentative at first.

“Oh Bernie, I just heard about Jasmine. I’m so sorry.”.

“Serena, I wanted to tell you first, but I saw Ric talking to you, so …” she tails off.

“I honestly don’t know what to say”, Serena sighs. “It’s terrible, she’s so young and I…I never had a real chance to make it up to her for my behaviour before I left”.

“If it’s any consolation”, says Bernie, “I don’t think Jasmine held it against you. She always looked up to you, you know”.

Serena is momentarily silenced by this.

“I tried so hard, Serena, we all did, Ric, Henrik too. But we couldn’t save her.”

Bernie’s voice is breaking and Serena feels her own tears welling up again.

“How could such a thing happen?” she asks, trying to master her emotions.

“No one really knows. Damon found her, carried her up to AAU. She was in the basement and had fallen on a scalpel and was bleeding out.  There’s some mystery there, but we don’t know yet.”

“And how are you, Bernie?”

“I-I you know, as you would expect.” Bernie seems surprised.

“I mean, in general, apart from that. I’m so sorry I haven’t called ..it’s been, I just…”

“I know, Serena, you needed space. I am aware of that and I haven’t called you for the same reason. And now you’re in ..where? Vietnam?” 

“Yes, Ho Chi Minh City- Saigon to most people. That seems sudden, I know, and I had no idea I’d be coming here. It’s my cousin, Véronique, who invited me,” replies Serena, aware that Bernie has subtly deflected her question.

“You have cousins in Australia? I didn’t know”.

“No, well, I had lost touch with them. My mother’s much younger half-sister migrated from France with her family to Melbourne about 20 years ago. I decided to look them up when I was visiting Australia and we hit it off. Véronique’s a doctor, too, she’s head of medical services at a private French clinic here in Saigon. Done very well for herself- Australian journalist husband and young child. They were on holiday in Melbourne when I arrived and invited me to join them later in Saigon. So here I am.”

“Wow! And what…..what’s it like? Very different, I imagine”.

“God, yes. I only arrived last night so I haven’t seen much. Very hot and humid. Heavy rain this afternoon, like a waterfall, quite amazing. The streets are very crowded and crossing the road’s a nightmare! But it’s full of atmosphere and the house they live in is lovely. “

“Good. Good for you. Um Serena, I have to go.. I’m being paged..”  Serena can hear a beeping noise in the background.

“Take care, and keep in touch, OK?”

“I will..and Bernie, ..take care….”  She is about to add “I love you”, but Bernie is gone.

Serena sits down on her bed, suddenly bereft. Bernie’s voice carried multiple echoes of their short-lived relationship- of moments both sweet and bitter. Until the time she left for her sabbatical, Serena had lived with the certainty of Bernie’s unwavering love and devotion, a constant since she had returned from Kiev and admitted her initial mistake in running from the relationship.  Now Serena couldn’t be less sure. Bernie sounded distant somehow, seemingly unwilling to talk about her life since Serena departed. When she thinks back to the three months she spent grieving for Elinor, Serena experiences a wave of shame and humiliation at what she had exposed Bernie to. Her heavy drinking, and all that entailed; ranting and raving, pushing Bernie away, bullying Jasmine, using cruel words to Jason and Bernie. How had Bernie stuck with her through all that? How had Bernie continued to love this ugly, abusive Serena? When Serena decided to leave, it was not only for her own sanity; she felt she had to release those around her from the tyranny of her grief and the unpredictability of her behaviour, not least Bernie. Now she is no longer sure of Bernie’s unconditional love.

 ***

Later that evening, at the family dinner table, as Serena tries to focus on her hosts rather than on what is happening in far off England, she learns more about Véro’s  job.

 “The CMF is a private clinic founded by a charity”, she explains as they linger over a delicious eggplant lasagne prepared by Nick. “All our profits go to performing surgeries for poor people in remote areas. Our fees are reasonable and our doctors are professional, we pay competitive salaries to get well qualified doctors- mostly from France, but not all are French. We also have local doctors who have qualified overseas”.

“And you’re involved in the development of a new hospital? Is that right? Tram- your nanny- mentioned that.”

“Yes, although the funding for the hospital has come from other sources. We are responsible for overall management of the operation. This is why Pilou has been sent to join my team. He’ll be a Senior Doctor, what do you call it in the UK..registrar? “

“Yes, basically a hospital surgeon leading a team of junior doctors under a consultant”.

“Yes, that’s it. I’m a GP, not a surgeon, so my role as Medical Director is also administrative”.

“Oh I know what that’s like”, smiles Serena. “I was Deputy CEO for a while, as well as being a consultant”.

“Yes, it can be quite stressful. When I started this kind of job back in Australia, I had no idea of the complexity. Budgets, spreadsheets…I’m thinking about doing an MBA now to keep up.”

“Good idea”, smiles Serena, Harvard MBA grad herself, accepting a refill of wine from Nick.

“Tell Serena about Pilou’s new department”, says Nick.

“Ah yes, I thought this might interest you, Serena. Pilou is a surgeon with a specialism in Trauma Medicine. Actually, he started out in Tropical Medicine, which is how he ended up in Asia. But he’s been involved in a lot of trauma cases – road crash victims, industrial accidents and the like- so he did a specialism recently in Singapore, now he’s been assigned to what we hope will be the Trauma unit at the new hospital.”

“Right”, Serena raises her eyebrows, interested.

“I wonder if you’d like to go over there one day and have a look? Some departments are already running, but the Trauma unit isn’t ready yet, so Pilou spends half the time at my clinic and half the time as a general surgeon at the new hospital.”

“I’d be delighted”, says Serena, happy to have a project, something to take her mind off Jasmine and bad news from Holby.

“I’m sure they would benefit from your vast experience”, smiles Nick, offering Serena a large bowl of salad.  “Don’t you have a Trauma Unit at Holby City?” 

“You’re insufferably well informed,” says Serena, sipping her south Australian Shiraz.

“And weren’t…I mean, aren’t you co-lead?”

“I was”, says Serena firmly. “It remains to be seen whether that will still be open to me if or when I go back.”

“You mean there’s some doubt?” asks Véro. 

“I mean it’s not yet decided”.

 ***

The following day Pilou messages Serena that he will pick her up for dinner at seven sharp. He adds- _no need to dress up_ \- which Serena is grateful for. She spends the day exploring the local market and food shops- marveling at the amazing range of organic vegetables and imported delicatessen items, not to mention the many excellent wine shops -  and talking to Tram about her nursing exams and helping with baby Joel while Nick is in his study working. When seven comes she is ready for action. Pilou arrives dressed in immaculate navy chino shorts, a loose light patterned shirt open at the chest and Birkenstocks. He is holding out a helmet.

“What?” Serena exclaims. “A motorbike? You can’t be serious.”

Nick laughs as Pilou pretends to look offended.

“Aw, this is the only way to travel, Serena. Fast, flexible and cheap, not to mention dead cool. That’s one sexy machine”, he sniggers, as Pilou raises his eyebrows mouthing “WHAT?” 

Serena understands that, joking aside, she is expected to climb onto Pilou’s motorbike, so she is grateful for her choice of attire-loose linen trousers- and decides to suspend her judgement.

“I thought we could keep it local tonight”, says Pilou as he helps her fasten the helmet and steadies the bike as she clambers on, showing her where to put her feet. He drives carefully, not too fast, and Serena is soon reasonably comfortable on the broad, well upholstered seat as the bike purrs smoothly along the road. Fortunately, traffic is light and within ten minutes they are pulling up outside an attractive garden strewn with fairy lights. Pilou helps Serena off with the helmet and parks the bike, nodding to the parking attendant. He leads Serena into the air -conditioned interior and claims a table near the back with a view of the garden.  A smiling waitress comes with menus.

“This is gorgeous, Pilou”, Serena exclaims, as she casts her eye over the huge menu, “but I don’t know anything about Vietnamese food, so I’ll let you order. I like everything – well, within reason!”

“Turtle? Sea slugs? Fried porcupine? Duck’s blood?” teases Pilou as she makes a face of disgust. “Well those are all eaten here, along with your domestic doggie and moggie, but not in this refined establishment”.

He looks up with a smile as they are joined by an exceptionally handsome Vietnamese man in his thirties, slim but fit and muscled, like a boxer, wearing sinfully tight jeans and a clinging T-shirt. He has a rather fetching scar above his eye, too, Serena notices.

“And this is the owner himself, Mr. Duc. How’re ya going, mate?” 

Duc punches Pilou’s shoulder playfully.  “I’m good. And I see you bring me a new lady to impress with my food!” 

“You bet! Serena, Duc’s restaurant is the perfect introduction to classic Vietnamese food. You can’t get better anywhere. This is real home cooking, not fancy party stuff.”

“So, Duc,” smiles Serena, “why don’t you recommend some dishes for a first timer?”

Duc takes them happily through his recommendations and Pilou pitches in with a wine choice- “only the finest Aussie Shiraz for our lady here”. 

His eyes track Duc as he walks briskly back to the kitchen, barking orders at his staff who then start scurrying around with napkins, chopsticks, lighting a candle on the table and rearranging the floral display.

A glimmer of understanding begins to stir in Serena’s brain.

“So how long have you known Duc?” she asks, as the waitress uncorks the wine and pours some for Pilou to taste. 

“Oh, we go way back”, smiles Pilou, inhaling and sipping the wine and giving the waitress a thumbs up. “His partner, Colin, put up the money for his first restaurant downtown. Colin was my mate from uni in Queensland, a sports physio. He got posted here and invited me over on holiday and introduced me to Duc. By the time I got posted here myself, Duc had a thriving empire.” 

“I see. And where’s Colin now?”

“Here and there. I think he’s off in Cambodia at the moment, can’t be sure. He’s a fair bit older than Duc, you see, doesn’t want to hold him back. Now he’s all set up, Colin’s stepped back a bit”.

Serena meets Pilou’s eyes and smiles warmly. “That’s very understanding of him”.

Pilou then changes the subject and as the food comes, regales Serena with endless funny tales of life in Vietnam, all while teaching her how to handle chopsticks – Serena’s no slouch, she had plenty of practice in the US in Chinese restaurants- and introducing her to the local cuisine. The food is amazing- each dish has a unique flavour and texture, and, unlike the Chinese cuisine Serena is more familiar with, it is light and full of herbs and vegetables, from crunchy salads to bunches of fresh herbs, pungent sauces, aromatic rice, crisp rolls and delicate dips. Serena sighs in contentment.

“That was fabulous”.

“Dessert?”  Duc is back, smiling broadly as his staff remove the empty dishes.

“Tempt me”, suggests Serena.

Duc is clearly in his element as he details the unique desserts he has created for the restaurant.

“Oh, stop, stop! You choose for me- I want something sweet and light and unforgettable”.

What she gets is a perfect pannacotta made with coconut milk, slices of fresh mango on top and sprinkled over with a little cinnamon. Pilou goes for the dark chocolate mousse.

“You know, I had you pegged as a chocolate man”, laughs Serena, scooping the last bit of coconut cream from her bowl.

“Am I that transparent?” smiles Pilou. Their eyes meet for a second or two. Then he says, gently, “Nightcap? 

Serena senses something beneath his light tone, so she says “Why not?”

Pilou calls for the bill and, rejecting Serena’s offer to pay, puts his credit card down.

“Standard 20% discount every time I bring a new customer”, he smiles, scrawling his name on the slip 

“Well, at least let me offer the tip?”, she asks, fumbling with the unfamiliar notes, as Pilou gently picks out a green one and drops it onto the saucer.

They climb back on to the scooter and in another few minutes reach a villa in a secluded compound, off the main drag. Pilou eases the bike through the gate and parks.

“What’s this place?” asks Serena, seeing a lively indoor bar and tables outside.

“This is my local, if you can call it that”, says Pilou. “The Chill Bar. Run by one of my favourite people- hey Connie, how’s business?” 

The woman he addresses is wearing shorts and a vest top and carrying a tray with four brimming pints of some kind of beer. She pauses briefly.

“Well, well, Monsieur Jean-Philippe- what are you doing here on a Thursday night? “

Pilou gestures to Serena. “Bringing a new friend”.

“Gimme a minute” says Connie, “and I’ll find you a nice table in the garden.”

 Pilou leads Serena towards the outdoor tables and in a few minutes Connie is back, wiping her hands on her shorts. She pushes her dark blonde hair, which is escaping from her bun, back from her face. Serena can see the sweat on her forehead.

“So what’s your drink of choice, Serena?” asks Connie, shifting things around to give them more privacy, and angling a fan towards them.

“A good Shiraz never goes amiss”, smiles Serena.

“Glass or bottle?” 

“Bottle?” suggests Pilou, and Serena nods. This is turning into a longer night than she has imagined, but the ambiance is friendly and the night warm and redolent of flowers and the faint smell of meat cooking on a barbecue.

Connie returns with two glasses and a bottle, still cool from the fridge. The idea of cooling red wine is novel to Serena.

“I guess in England red wine never gets really hot”, says Pilou, pouring. “But here, who wants to drink warm red wine in thirty plus temperatures?”

“Good point”, says Serena, finding the wine perfect.

“So”, says Pilou finally, when they are alone. “Tell me about your trauma unit”.

Serena launches into an explanation of how the idea came about and how she and her co-lead on AAU had set it up.

“And this Trauma Unit is still functioning?”

“Yes, of course”.

“And how did the co-lead take the news of your departure? ”

Serena is feeling distinctly uncomfortable now. “Um..well,  a consultant from another ward has come to co-lead AAU in my absence, but that’s temporary, well, I mean…if I…” she tails off in confusion.

Pilou is smiling sympathetically.

 “And do you plan to go back?”

 “I..really don’t know at this juncture”, rolling her pendant between her fingers.

 “Must be hard on them. The co-lead, I mean. All that work and partnership and now having to make do with a temporary replacement?”

 Serena is indignant. “It wasn’t like that. My daughter died…”

 “Yes, I’m aware, Serena, and I’m really sorry. That’s a terrible thing to happen.”

 She takes a deep breath. “I was grieving…not thinking straight, not performing well. I was, well, actually, the ..er..wheels totally fell off, as I think you Aussies say”, Pilou inclines his head, “and I had to get away for a while”.

 “And how did your co-lead take that?” he insists.

 “Is that relevant?”

“I just sense something you’re not saying. You talk about all your other colleagues- this Ric character, a lot, a dude called Henrik, a gal called Maureen or something…but I never hear you mention the name of your co-lead. And this has to be a pretty important person, right?”

Serena looks up, her eyes a little misty.

 “Bernie. Her name is Bernie. Berenice. Berenice Wolfe”, she says.

 “She means something special to you, doesn’t she?”

 Serena feels the tears welling up in her eyes as she nods.

 “We were …partners”, she says, her voice breaking.           

 “What about now?”

“I really don’t know. Those three months after Elinor died, before I left, they were ..awful, a blur. It’s like all the feelings we had were suspended. I couldn’t focus on her, on us. She stood up to it pretty well, but there was damage done, I’m sure. The problem is I was so far gone half the time that I can’t actually remember some of the things that happened, or that we…I…said..” she gives a short laugh.

Pilou reaches out and covers her hand with his own.

“OK so now you’re here, you’re healing.Véro and Nick really want to help you get back into the swing of things, that’s why they told me about your daughter. They thought maybe I could help you get into the medical scene here, to keep your skills up, but in a new environment. And I take my role very seriously”. His eyes are twinkling. 

“I can’t promise you any stunningly gorgeous trauma surgeons”, Serena raises her eyebrows, “but I think you’ll find my hospital a breath of fresh air”.

“Who told you Bernie was stunningly gorgeous?”

Pilou holds up his phone where he has a clipping from an online newspaper dated March 2016 featuring a picture of Bernie in army fatigues. “ _Frontline Trauma Medic Joins Local Hospital After IED ends her Military Career”_ is the caption.

“Where on earth did you dig that up?” she exclaims, trying to control her breathing while her insides give a little flip at the sight of Bernie in those fatigues.

“Nick is an especially enterprising journalist. After they met you in Melbourne he did a whole lot of research to find out more about your hospital and your job. “

 He pulls up another picture of a smiling Serena sitting at a desk under the caption. “ _Deputy CEO Of Holby City Hospital Balances Two Key Roles.”_

“Hmmm…I see”. Serena is a bit stumped that they would go to such lengths to find out more about her. She is not sure whether to be annoyed or pleased.

“And I can quite see why you would fall for her”, he says. “And she for you. So the big question is, do you intend to get together again in the near future?”

“I can’t answer that right now. The plan was to take a sabbatical- several months, a year even, and then see. Things are still a bit distant between us. “

“OK, I understand”, he says, patting her hand. “Well, anyway, welcome to Saigon. I hope we’ll be friends, Serena, and maybe colleagues, too. “

Serena hesitates, puzzled. Pilou’s words seem to be suggesting something his body language is not. Is he coming on to her? He’s a good fifteen years younger, and though undoubtedly very attractive, she isn’t getting that kind of vibe from him. She had also noted his flirtatious manner around Duc, the restaurant owner, and wondered whether there was something there.

Pilou’s phone is suddenly buzzing in his hand. He peers at the screen, then pats Serena’s hand again saying “Excuse me just one moment, I’ll be right back”.

Connie chooses that moment to reappear.

“Everything OK?” she asks

“Oh yes,” Serena assures her. “The wine is lovely.”

“That’s a new one came in last week, Chilean”, Connie tells her, lifting the empty bottle.

“Another?”

“I don’t think.. it’s getting rather late” Serena says.

“Ok, I’ll come back when Lover Boy is here to see whether he wants more”, she smiles, taking the empty bottle away but leaving the glasses, and leaving Serena even more puzzled. Lover Boy?

She doesn’t have long to wait before Pilou emerges from the darkness, closely followed by a slim dark-haired man of roughly the same age, in jeans and a white short-sleeved linen shirt, dangling what look like car keys from his fingers.

Serena waits for an introduction, noting that the other man seems nervous.

“Serena, meet Tien, my partner”, smiles Pilou, switching into French to introduce Serena.  Serena then switches into French herself and Tien relaxes, grasping her hand and smiling.

“I’m really pleased to meet you, Serena,” says Tien. “Pilou has told me what an interesting person you are, and above all, what an excellent surgeon. It would be my pleasure to show you round our hospital”.

“Tien is also a surgeon in our hospital”, explains Pilou. “General surgery. He trained in France, which is why his French is much better than his English”.

“It’s a real pleasure”, says Serena warmly, the mystery now solved. “I’d love to see your hospital”.

“We’re in at 9 tomorrow morning”, says Pilou. “We could pick you up on the way. Car, not motorbike of course”, he laughs.

“I can’t wait”, says Serena.

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Moving On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in Holby, Bernie is suffering her own defeats. Her inability to save Jasmine, followed by the closure of the Trauma Centre. What can she do next? Enter a face from Holby's past....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've taken a bit of a liberty with the timeline here- moving Jasmine's death closer to the closure of the Trauma Centre. 
> 
> Apologies to MSF for borrowing their name, it was done out of the greatest respect for their work. MSF do have projects in both Pakistan and Bangladesh and the events of August 2017 in Rakhine State, Myanmar, and Bangladesh are taken from official eye witness reports. The characters in this story, however, are entirely fictional and my description of the camps is imagined. There is no connection whatsoever to the real MSF or anyone employed by them.
> 
> For anyone wanting to know more about MSF's real work on the Bangladesh-Myanmar border, here's the link: https://www.msf.org/myanmarbangladesh-no-one-was-left-death-and-violence-against-rohingya

After her conversation with Serena, Bernie felt relieved. She had been holding off on calling, not wanting to hear a depressed Serena, or, worse, a Serena who didn’t welcome her call. The news of her being in Saigon was quite unexpected. Hopefully, Serena would find the distraction of her new environment a welcome change from gloom and doom, including that from Holby.

 Bernie, on the other hand, was struggling. Despite her efforts to socialise and to pay more attention to herself and her home, she had had several down days after Jasmine’s death. One morning she woke up on the sofa with a splitting hangover, an empty whisky bottle rolling across the carpet as she flung her arm out, and she had to call in sick for the first time in years. And sick she was - not merely physically, but heartsick, tired of battling death, tired of seeing it defeat people who were too young to die, whose future was abruptly cut off.

 Then Jac Naylor, of all people, had come round to see her. Despite Jac’s spirited defense of Jasmine when Serena was bullying her, going as far as to threaten Serena with legal action, Jac had always felt a certain kinship with Bernie- stoic, loyal, a fighter to the death, definitely no coward, and she sensed Bernie’s isolation and need for some kind of spiritual reinforcement.

 “You did good there, you know”, Jac said, “even if we lost the fight in the end”.

 “I only did what any surgeon would have done. But it wasn’t enough”, Bernie said, bitterly.

 “That wasn’t your fault”, said Jac. “She was too far gone when you got her, and on top of that, she seemed to be fighting us. The point is, Bernie, you went over and above. I know, I was there. But don’t let it destroy you.”

 Bernie looked up- this was the first time Jac had ever called her anything but “Wolfe”.

 “I can see you’re self-flagellating, but stop. Jasmine is gone. There’s nothing you could have done differently”.

 Bernie looked Jac in the eye steadily as Jac continued,  “I’ve had time to think about it, and I regret more than anything that I had a half-sister I never really knew.”

 Jac’s eyes glistened with unshed tears but she hardened her voice to stop it from cracking. “Now it’s time to move on. You’re a brilliant surgeon, Wolfe, you have to go back out there and keep on doing what you do best.”

 “You regret not knowing Jasmine better?” Bernie was curious.

 Jac nodded, breaking eye contact. “I didn’t always handle her presence well. But she kind of grew on me. I never had a kid sister when I was growing up. I missed my chance.” She swiped an arm across her eyes impatiently.

 Bernie was silent, not wanting to make any gesture which might cause Jac to lose her composure still further, and not knowing what to say, her head thumping and her guts still churning. Finally Jac stood up straight and directed her normal icy stare back at Bernie.

 “You look like shit, Wolfe. Pull yourself together and I’ll see you at work tomorrow, OK?”

 Jac’s visit gave Bernie a much-needed confidence boost and she was grateful for her colleague’s support, but the confidence rebuilding turned out to be  short-lived. Barely three weeks later, Bernie had to watch the closure of her beloved Trauma Centre. Holby City hospital had given her no warning and there was no alternative consultant position available, or at least, not unless she fancied doing hip replacement surgery. Bernie was left high and dry, completely at a loss. On the day the Centre closed, she went home in a daze and sat on the sofa in her black lycra, after the charity run where she had said her farewells to her colleagues, and simply stared at the wall, not knowing what to do. It was at that moment that her phone rang. She glanced at the screen, an unfamiliar number, but having nothing else to do, she swiped the green button.

 “Hello, is this Bernie Wolfe?”

 “It is. Who am I talking to?”

 “Hi, my name’s Elliot Hope, you may have heard of me, I used to work at Holby City Hospital- Jac Naylor’s old boss on Darwin”.

 “Ah, yes, that sounds familiar.”

 “Well I’m in the UK for some meetings and I just had a drink with Jac. She’s been telling me about the sudden closure of your Trauma Unit. It seems to have been a very quick decision. I don’t know if you have anything sorted, but if not, my project might have something you may be interested in”.

 “You’re working in…Pakistan, isn’t it? With Frieda, too?”

 “Yes, that’s correct. But we have tentacles in other areas as well, and it’s one of these I‘m recruiting for at present.  Look, could you meet me for a drink? “

 “Where are you?”

 “I’m staying at the Novotel, there’s a passable bar here. Could you join me in, say, an hour? Sorry to be rushed, but I have to fly back tomorrow afternoon”.

 “An hour, that works. OK I’ll be there. Do you know what I look like?”

 “No need for a discreet copy of the Times and a buttonhole, I can assure you”, his rich chuckle echoes down the line. “Jac’s given me the specs!” and he cuts the call.

 Bernie stood for a moment, phone in hand, trying to slot information into the space that had opened in her brain. Finally, she looked at her watch, calculated the time it would  take to get to the Novotel and jumped in the shower, afterwards dressing quickly in her usual skinny jeans and a fresh oxford shirt and tank top, leather jacket slung over her arm as she made her way to her car.

 Elliot was easily recognisable – tubby with wild grey curls, somewhat eccentrically dressed in a checked viyella shirt with a striped tie, crumpled gabardine trousers. He was drinking a martini at the bar and reading something on a tablet when she arrived.

 “Elliot?”

 “Ah, the Wolfe! Messy blonde locks, tall, lean and gorgeous!”

 Bernie frowns, Elliott throws up his hands “Or so I’m told. Take a pew- I’m just repeating what I’ve heard, but don’t worry, I’m no lech, ha ha. My interest is purely professional”.

 Bernie sat somewhat hesitantly.

 “So, first things first, what will you have? This is on me, of course”.

 “Um..a whisky..single malt, on the rocks.”

 Elliot busied himself with drinks then settled back and looked Bernie in the eye.

 “I’m told you are one of the country’s leading frontline trauma surgeons. For you to be out of work makes no bloody sense”.

 Bernie nodded her assent.

 “So my aim, let me be clear now, is to offer you an opportunity to put your skills to best use. My project in Pakistan is run by Médecins Sans Frontières – MSF for short. We have a project in Bangladesh that has just received funds for dealing with medical emergencies and trauma among Rohingya refugees coming over the border from Burma- sorry, Myanmar, as they call it nowadays.”

 Bernie raised her eyebrows. “What kinds of trauma?”

 “It varies widely- the greatest need is for disease treatment and prevention as these people have been without access to clean water, exposed to malaria, dengue etc. for a very long time, but there’s a 24 -hour emergency room at our main camp, Kutupalong,  dealing with gunshot wounds, stabbings,  victims of rape and torture….as you may have read, the Rohingya are a persecuted minority in Myanmar and have been pouring over the border into Bangladesh since last year. The main reason why I’m here is that we’ve currently been experiencing an increase in the number of Rohingya refugees as the result of a government crackdown earlier this month, and our resources are overwhelmed. I’ve been down to take a look and have been tasked with the job of finding experienced trauma doctors to help with new arrivals and also to train the local surgeons in dealing with trauma injuries.”

 “Right. And how long would this position be available for?”

 “Hard to say. Right now we are working around 8 week rotations for the medical teams, then we will reassess.  The fact is, no one knows what the Myanmar government is going to do. They seem to be in complete denial about what the army is doing in Rakhine state, where these people live, and there is speculation - based on what appears to be ethnic cleansing going on right now- that this could eventually be classified as a genocide. Put simply, we’re seeing a mass exodus and we need to expand our facilities and human resources on the ground”

 He lowered his voice, and it broke slightly as he said “I’d prefer to recruit more female medics- you can’t imagine what some of these women have been through. It’s very hard for them to talk to men.”

 At first Bernie couldn't get her head around what he was saying. Her interests and her heart had always been in the Middle East and Africa, she knew nothing about South and South-East Asia. But as Elliot talked, she gradually built a picture, linked to news broadcasts she had seen, of what he was describing. It didn't escape her notice, either, that the Bangladesh-Myanmar border was a lot nearer  Ho Chi Minh City than Holby. She nodded slowly.

 “When would you need me by?”

***

Five days and  quick phone calls to her son, Cameron and daughter Charlotte later, Bernie stepped squinting into the sun from a small passenger aircraft at Cox’s Bazar Airport after an overnight flight from London and transit in Dhaka.  Familiar with high temperatures, she was unprepared for the soggy blanket of humidity that had her skinny jeans sticking to her legs in minutes, and sweat patches starting to appear on her shirt before she had crossed the tarmac to the terminal. Once she had cleared immigration and recuperated her suitcase, heading for the exit, she immediately caught sight of a familiar face.

 “Frieda!”  she exclaimed, as the Ukrainian woman, now minus her goth makeup, came forward to give her a hug. “What are you doing here?”

 “Elliot and I have been rotated by MSF to Bangladesh to help with the Rohingya crisis. So we’ll also be working with you”.

 Bernie was happy to see a friendly face and followed Frieda to a Land Rover waiting for them outside the airport.

 “Elliot’s busy this morning with meetings, but I’m going to show you to your quarters, then take you to lunch and in the afternoon we’ll have the standard briefing for new teams. I only arrived last night myself, so I’m new, too, sort of”.

 Much more appropriately attired than Bernie, Frieda wore a loose cotton shift and blue lightweight cotton trousers with rubber sandals. “The monsoon season has started so you have to walk through puddles very often. Rubber shoes are a must!” she laughed as their vehicle negotiated a muddy road strewn with water-filled potholes.

 Cox’s Bazar is a major tourist attraction, but Bernie saw little of it as they headed inland towards Kutupalong, the largest of the refugee camps where she would be based. She had the overwhelming impression of thousands of tents and makeshift shelters as they drove into the compound, but jet lag was kicking in and all she wanted was to get out of her sticky jeans and into something more comfortable.

 On arrival at the staff quarters, Frieda showed Bernie to her room- very basic, with a camp bed, chest of drawers, clothes rack, desk and chair, but at least it was air conditioned and also had a standing fan. Bernie was relieved to see that on the bed was a set of green scrubs and on the floor a pair of white rubber clogs, as her own clothes were hardly suitable for the climate.

 “OK dump your stuff, shower in the bathroom on the corridor, get changed and I’ll meet you here in 30 minutes to go to lunch. I’m right next door”, said Frieda.

 Lunch was more delicious than Bernie had imagined- a choice of spicy Bengali dishes with rice and naan breads, cooling yoghurt drinks, tea and fruit. One part of Bernie’s brain was struggling to stay awake while the other was eager to process as much as possible. She awoke after a 2 hour nap to the sound of her phone beeping. She squinted blearily at the screen, to find a message from Serena.

  _Just heard about the Trauma Centre closing. What were they thinking? Ric says you’ve left Holby- where are you? Please tell me you’re OK._

Bernie levered herself upright, pushing her hair out of her eyes and hooking it behind her ears. She thought for a moment before typing:

  _Sorry not to have updated earlier, it’s been a bit of a blur. I’m in Bangladesh with Elliot and Frieda. Just arrived- working on the Rohingya refugee crisis – 8 weeks initially._

 There was a knock on her door and Frieda poked her head round.

 “Briefing in 10 minutes, Bernie”.

 “I’ll be right there”, responded Bernie, touching the send button on her WhatsApp screen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. New Landscapes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena finds her feet and learns more about the hospital in Saigon. She tries to find a way to reconnect with Bernie as part of a plan to bring her over to set up the Trauma Unit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the uneven posting, concentration broken by various life intrusions. I'm gradually bringing Serena and Bernie together and each narrative seems to have a will of its own. I love that image of Bernie in a camo headband and green scrubs! Shout out to my unsuspecting pal, Dragonfly, who is the inspiration for Connie. Big weekend in Bangkok coming up in Chapter 6- and will up the rating appropriately.

Serena raises her head from the desk at the nurse’s station where she sits in a post-prandial slumber. Someone is calling “Serena oi”. She still has to get used to this way of addressing people. “Oi” would be rude in English, but in Vietnam it is the normal way of getting attention.  She yawns, as Tien comes into view holding a plastic cup with a top and a straw.

 “For you”, he says, presenting it with a flourish.  Not sure of the contents but hoping it’s a hot caffeinated beverage, Serena takes hold of the cup.

“Oh, it’s cold!” she exclaims.  The nurses around her titter.

Tien smiles “It’s _cà phê sữa đá",_ he says, "iced milk coffee.”

Serena looks at it doubtfully “I usually take my coffee hot”, she says, but the nurses break out into a fresh burst of giggles and Tien says “Just try it. I think it’s what you need”.

Feeling somewhat backed into a corner, Serena takes a sip. Her face is quite a picture. The nurses are holding their sides laughing and Tien is struggling to remain composed. The drink is both bitter and sweet. The Vietnamese coffee is very strong with burnt chocolate overtones while the milk is condensed, sweet and thick. It’s a powerful hit, and Serena immediately goes back for a second sip. It’s definitely addictive. Serena can’t remember the last time she had condensed milk and is sure she would claim to hate it if anyone asked her, just as she would normally refuse iced coffee, but the combination is exactly what she needs right now to wake her up for her imminent surgery.

 “Well, well, Dr. Tien, you are a mind reader”, she says, now smiling again. “That’s just what the doctor ordered!”

 “OK, so carotid endarterectomy in theatre number 3 in 15 minutes”, he says.

 “On my way”, says Serena, slurping on her drink and heading for the locker room to change into scrubs.

 This is her first operation as lead surgeon. Previously she has watched Pilou and Tien and other colleagues in action, and has assisted with one or two trickier vascular repairs when called on, grateful to have had this time to find her feet. She discovers that she gets on very well in theatre with Tien especially. He is quiet but extremely observant and quick to react. She is looking forward to her first time leading and with him assisting. She can see that he has the makings of an excellent surgeon. Pilou is also a good surgeon, but he is more dominant, he likes to lead, and for all his charm and wit, Serena can see herself locking horns with him if they had to work together all the time.

 As she exits the locker room, Pilou falls into step with her. “First big one, huh?” he says.

 “Yes, carotid endarterectomy”, replies Serena, quite at ease.

 “Well, good luck with that, I’m sure you’ll be fine. When you get out, come and find me, I want to show you something. I’ll be in the Trauma Wing”.

 “OK”, says Serena, heading for her theatre. “I should be done within 2 hours”.

 The operation goes well and Serena scrubs out relieved that there were no complications. Tien comes and stands next to her as she washes her hands.

 “That was amazing”, he says in French. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that done so smoothly. I’m so glad you’re here, Serena.”

 “Thank you, Tien”, she says, “I’m glad to be here. I don’t think I could bear right now to go back to my old hospital, but this is a great experience, and you’re a very gifted surgeon.”

 She wanders out, changes and heads for the new Trauma Centre which is not yet open. Pilou is inside, dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, discussing something with the workers painting the walls.

 “Ah Serena”, he walks towards her. “Finished for the day?”

 She looks at her watch, it’s 4.30 pm. “Yes, I think so”.

 “Then let’s take a walk round before we go home”.

He takes her round the Trauma Unit and explains where everything should go. Some equipment has been ordered and some is sitting in the corridor waiting to go in.

 “Basically, we have to wait about a month before everything is here. The technical stuff is fine, we have technicians from France coming to install the machinery and to train our technicians, but it’s the logistics of managing the Centre and training the nursing staff in trauma techniques that is problematic.  People have different ideas, but none of us is an expert in this field. “

 “I thought you had a Trauma Consultant coming out from France”, she says.

 “So did I,” he grimaces, “but it seems he got poached before he committed to us.”

 “So do you have anyone else in mind?”

“We have you”, he grins hopefully. “And I would really like it if we could keep you for a while, at least until everyone’s found their feet”.

Serena is taken aback. For all her long experience as a vascular surgeon, and her work with Bernie at Holby City, she has never thought of herself as a Trauma Surgeon. Sure, there are overlapping areas, but Serena’s never worked in the field, making instantaneous life or death decisions or performing atriocaval shunts at a moment’s notice, unlike her fantastic, fearless partner. While she is a very capable manager of her own ward, with a good business head, Serena is like a fish out of water when it comes to this sort of logistics – she would be much more comfortable re-arranging her garden furniture, or organising a dinner party. The thought of being responsible for setting up a Trauma Centre in a foreign country and training these Vietnamese nurses in the finer points of trauma response is not something she can imagine herself doing.

 “Mmm”, she says thoughtfully. “I think we should maybe take a step back and consider the options, don’t you?”

 ***

From her first visit to the hospital the day after her dinner with Pilou, she had felt a strong connection to it. Ho Chi Minh City had a large number of hospitals, but still lacked sufficient bed space for the needs of its 8 million plus population. Provision went from extremely basic to high end but the bottom line was that the costs of hospital treatment were still beyond the means of most ordinary residents. Between the government insurance schemes- which paid anywhere from 25% -50% of the costs of the most basic treatment, and the private health insurance policies purchased by the rich and by foreigners in the country, there was a massive gap in funding. Most people accepted that if they or a member of their family became ill, it could cost them everything they had. The premise of CMF was that they should provide high quality care at a reasonable cost.

“And of course, most private health insurance is a rip-off”, said Véro, peering over her glasses at Serena as they sat in her office after lunch one day.

 “Take this, for example”, and she tossed an invoice at Serena. “This was given to me by a patient. It’s from the private international hospital here and is an estimate for a laparoscopic cholecystectomy with a 1 night inpatient stay.”

 Serena looked over the list of costs – it seemed reasonable, and the items on the list were all essential.

 “OK, this looks fairly standard”, she said.

 Véro then tossed another paper at her. “That was for a self-paying patient. _This,"_ indicating the new document, “is an estimate for the same operation as presented to the patient’s insurance company. It appears that after we referred him to the hospital, he went for his appointment without telling them he had insurance. When he corrected them, he was given this new estimate.”

 Serena glanced at it and did a double take. The figure at the bottom was trebled. She runs her eye over the list of essential items. “If you take this apart”, said Véro grimly, it’s obvious that they are applying _surcharges_ to all the items on this list. For example, surgeon’s fee- look”, she stabs her finger on the second document.

 “On the first estimate it gives a flat rate, but on the second, that figure is not only doubled but there is a second charge for the surgeon’s time.”

Serena nodded thoughtfully, trying to engage her brain. Despite her Harvard MBA, private health insurance was not something she was overly concerned with while working for the NHS.

 “The foundation of our health provision at CMF is twofold: firstly, we have to cover our costs, and patients with insurance help to balance those who are self-paying, but the gap is much smaller than in other places. Secondly, our profits go to projects which provide free healthcare for the disadvantaged.”

 “Very worthy”, said Serena.

 “Our foundation has decided to fund and build the hospital because we want to provide the same level of inpatient care as we currently do for outpatient treatments. It’s turning into a bit of a nightmare, though,” she sighs.

 “Why?”

 “Well, take doctor recruitment, for example”, Véro sits back, her arms crossed over her chest.

“We pay good rates by the standards of private hospitals in Asia, but we rely on getting only the most qualified professionals. We reject about 70% of all applications once we dig into their backgrounds. Too many fly-by-nights, doctors struck off in other countries hoping to cover it up, incompetents, etc. For every doctor that starts working here, if they survive the selection process, around 40% leave in the first 6-12 months. Some don’t make it past probation but others get lured by local private hospitals offering them huge salaries. These are the places with top of the line equipment, big funding, but they charge like wounded bulls, as we say in Oz.”

 Serena sniggered, not having heard that expression before.

“I don’t blame the doctors necessarily for trying to get the best deal, but it hurts us. We spend money on advertising, checking, interviewing, orientation and training- then they bugger off to Megabucks Clinic which can afford to bump up their salary without having spent anything on recruiting them.”

 Serena nodded in sympathy. “And if they see the light once they’ve realised that Megabucks is all glitz and no substance?”

 “Well, they’re afraid to break contract, and they can hardly come back, tails between their legs!”

 “I see”, said Serena thoughtfully. She turned to Véro.

“Let me see your doctors’ contracts. Maybe I can help you restructure them to build in some protection against early losses and stave off attacks by the cowboys, hmm?”

“Oh, Serena, that would be fantastic”, said Véro. “I feel I’m really letting the funders down at the moment, I’m a bit out of my depth to be honest”.

“Make use of me while I’m here”, laughed Serena, “I want to earn my keep after all”.

After that, Serena divided her time between Véro’s clinic, where she helped with the admin and management side, and the hospital where she started to get involved with surgery. After her 15 day visa-free period had expired, Véro helped her to apply for a 6 month business visa so that she could see whether there were work options she would like to take up. Although she had visited the space where the Trauma centre would be on her first visit, it was on the general surgery ward and in the ED that she found herself being drawn to help the enthusiastic doctors and nurses in the new hospital.

Serena had remained as a guest at Nick and Véro’s house, but once she got her Business visa, the hospital asked her to sign a contract for part-time work, and from that moment onwards, she insisted on giving a contribution to household expenses. Gradually, everyday life began to feel like normality, and Serena was both happy and absorbed in her task. She messaged Bernie weekly, on average, just to touch base, and Bernie responded with a few lines, but revealed very little of her life. Serena felt she had to be content with whatever Bernie was prepared to tell her. Until the day Serena got a message from Henrik informing her officially that the Trauma Centre had been closed by the Board and that Bernie had opted to leave.  This was followed in short order by a message from Ric:

  _“The bastards have closed the Trauma Unit. Bernie has flown-I tried to keep her, but she had no better option here. Suggest you track her down, she was pretty pissed off”._

 Serena immediately messaged Bernie:

 _"_ _Just heard about the Trauma Centre closing. What were they thinking? Ric says you’ve left Holby- where are you? Please tell me you’re OK."_

 The reply startled her:

 " _Sorry not to have updated earlier, it’s been a bit of a blur. I’m in Bangladesh with Elliott and Frieda. Just arrived- working on the Rohingya refugee crisis – 8 weeks initially."_

Serena sat back in her chair trying to take in the information. Bernie was in Asia.

 ***

 Now Serena can’t push away the thought that Bernie Wolfe, leading trauma surgeon and organizational wizard, is but a hop, skip and a jump away.

 “What’s your deadline for opening this Trauma Unit?” Serena asks Pilou.

 “It was supposed to be October 1st, but now it’s already the end of August and we don’t have the training organised, so it will have to be pushed back to December or even January, depending on when we can get a Trauma consultant out here.” He is despondent.

 Serena smiles slowly. “Hmm, maybe I could lend a hand in that direction”.

 Pilou raises his head, his eyes wide, smiling in satisfaction.

Serena holds up a hand “Now don’t get all excited- it’s not me. To be perfectly candid, Pilou, I’m really not what you need. I can see that I have a place here, and I’m happy to help, but setting up a Trauma Unit is way outside my comfort zone. On the other hand, I might just know someone…..”

 Pilou grins. “Tall, blonde and gorgeous?”

 “Maybe, just maybe. Now how about hitting Happy Hour at The Chill Bar?”

 “Followed by dinner at that small French restaurant with the extensive wine list?”

 “How well you know me!”

 ***

Since her first message from Bangladesh, Bernie has filled Serena in more regularly on her progress there, seemingly needing to vent about the rain and humidity, which is something she has never previously experienced in a working environment. Operating at a high level of skill in challenging conditions is exactly what she is best at, but fending off mosquitoes as big as bluebottles, only too eager to get a taste of her delectable blood, and coping with sweat running into her eyes while wielding precision equipment is something else. She sends Serena a picture of her wearing a thick camo headband – goodness only knows where she found that- and brandishing a scalpel, looking like a Japanese warrior, with her hair in a pony tail and her eyes narrowed to slits as she prepares for action. It makes Serena laugh, but God, those green scrubs are close fitting and the sight of her lover in that headband does something peculiar to Serena’s insides that have her retiring to bed early with Bernie’s Christmas present set to high speed.

It seems like an age since Bernie and Serena were together- and the last three months of their co-existence had been pure hell as Serena worked her way through the various stages of grief. She doesn’t even know whether Bernie still wants to be with her, so the idea of trying to lure her to Ho Chi Minh City is speculative at best. At the same time, it doesn’t seem beyond the bounds of possibility if Bernie’s contract in Bangladesh is due to end in 5 or 6 weeks and if the hospital could offer her a good job here doing what she does best. It would hurt, but Serena is even willing to live separately if Bernie agrees to come. She feels she owes it to Véro and Pilou.

Serena is sitting by herself one evening at the Chill Bar, updating Facebook for Jason and her friends at Holby while sipping on a glass of Shiraz at the bar. The place is quiet for a change, and Connie, the owner, comes over to chat to Serena.

“On your lonesome, then?”

 “Yes, as it happens”, smiles Serena. “This is a good spot to hang out if you’re a single woman and don’t want to get hit on.”

 Connie smiles knowingly. “Yeah, it’s not as if you can walk into the Mekong Sports Bar and find a quiet table without getting an unwanted companion”.

Serena shudders, the sight of middle- aged western men with unhealthy paunches and matching leers squatting like parasites in the local bars, letching over the 20-something bar girls and fastening like leeches onto any attractive female who walks in, is repellent, and an experience she has learned to avoid. The Chill Bar, female-owned and with many female customers who come alone to have a drink, a chat or a game of pool, or to watch sport on the big screen, is a haven. Connie also runs classic movie nights, wine and cheese evenings and a book club, and this suits Serena perfectly.

 “Would you like the menu?” Connie asks.

 “Why not?” smiles Serena. Connie has just hooked up with  a local restaurant to revamp her menu and take over the kitchen.

 “I may even join you”, Connie says. “The Vietnamese chicken salad is so good that I’ve been eating my profits since those guys took over the food”.

 Serena orders Fettucine Carbonara and a side salad and they sit companiably eating while the young Vietnamese barman handles the few other customers.

 "So what got you into owning a bar?” Serena asks.

 Connie sighs and, not meeting Serena’s eyes she says “A relationship bust up. We co-owned a mini-hotel, then my partner ran off with my best friend”.

 “Ouch!” Serena says sympathetically. Connie is looking down into her Coke glass.

 “That was three years ago, but it still kinda hurts”.

 Sensing there is something Connie is holding back, and noting the lack of pronouns, Serena makes a decision to be brave.

 “I know”, she says softly. “I drove my own partner away when my daughter died. Went a bit crazy for a while and then left her to cope with our hospital ward on her own. Now I don’t know if I can get her back.”

 Connie raises her eyes, which are a startling blue, and Serena sees both a touch of surprise and a sudden warmth.

 “What?” laughs Serena, “don’t tell me you thought I was flirting  with Pilou?”

 “Hell no, he’s as camp as a row of tents!”

 Serena bursts out laughing. “Sorry”, grins Connie, “these Australianisms are weirdly contagious.”

 “So where are you from?”

 “Jeez, all over. The US, I guess, but my dad was a diplomat and we moved around every few years. I finished high school in Bangkok, the French international school, would you believe? Went back to the States for college, but dropped out, too boring, came back to Asia, been here ever since.”

 “And your ex-partner? “

“Ah, Jen’s Canadian, we met at a pool competition back in Bangkok, came here together, set up the business with an Italian dude, Enrico. Then two years in, she decides she prefers spaghetti to mac’n’cheese. They go off to the beach to open a guest house and leave me, so I have to close the business and find a new means of earning a living. Took me 2 years of teaching English 30 hours a week to save enough cash”.  This said bitterly.

 “So, anyone new on the horizon?”

 “The odd one -night stand”, says Connie abruptly. “Nothing serious. Like that’s easy here, huh!”, raising her eyes to Serena’s warm brown gaze.

 Serena pats her hand comfortingly. “Have some confidence in yourself. You’re an attractive woman. Sooner or later the right gal will come waltzing into the bar and hey presto!”

 Connie laughs. “So how about you? Do you need any help getting that girlfriend back? Do you have a picture?”

 Serena taps her iPhone screen and up pops the image of Bernie in her scrubs with the scalpel and headband.

 “Wow!” says Connie, “she is seriously hot, you have to make a plan to get her back”.

 “I have an idea”, confides Serena, and she tells Connie about the Trauma unit and her intention to lure Bernie back with a job at the end of her rotation.

 “So does she get a break in her schedule at all, before the end of the eight weeks?”

 “Yes, I believe she gets a 4 -day long weekend in the middle”.

 “Which is when?"

 “About 10 days from now?”

 "So invite her over, there are flights to Saigon from Dhaka”.

 “I’m just not sure I want to ambush her like that. Maybe better to meet on neutral ground and see how the land lies, wouldn't you think??”

 Connie snaps her fingers. “Go to Bangkok, meet her there. It’s the easiest place in this region for both of you to get to, and I can tell you where to stay- my Dad has all these hotel memberships, I can even get you a free night or two. You’ll love it, really.”

 “Mmm, you may have a point”, Serena muses.

 As Connie clears the dishes and pours Serena a fresh glass of Shiraz, Serena opens WhatsApp and rereads Bernie’s last messages.

_“The rain is relentless and the roads are a sea of mud. I’m covered in mozzie repellent from dawn to dusk, working down on the border this week with Frieda, manning an emergency station. She’s a laugh but the work is grim.”_

_"Hi, me again. I’m finding this really hard. Not the work itself but the emotional trauma. The rape and torture victims are the worst. Had to perform an emergency abortion today on a pregnant woman who had been raped with a stick. Frieda actually cried when we did it.”_

The last message was 3 days ago.

 _"_ _Hi, glad you’re finding things to do in Saigon. I have my mid-session break coming up in 2 weeks, time to reflect and think about what to do next. Might do some sightseeing with Frieda."_

Serena thinks for a few minutes then types:

 " _I’m free for a few days the weekend of your leave. How does a long weekend in Bangkok sound? My treat- got a special offer from a luxury hotel. It would be good to meet up."_

 


	6. One Night In Bangkok

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernie and Serena meet in Bangkok, but Bernie is not herself. Serena is afraid that Bernie's feelings towards her may have changed, but the reason soon becomes clear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm now upping the rating to "M", and should warn readers that this chapter contains some angst and details of illness in case you want to skip it.
> 
> "One Night In Bangkok" by Murray Head can be found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rgc_LRjlbTU
> 
> One night in Bangkok and the world's your oyster  
> The bars are temples but the pearls ain't free  
> You'll find a god in every golden cloister  
> And if you're lucky then the god's a she  
> I can feel an angel sliding up to me

**Bernie**

 The plane descends slowly from a cloudless blue sky into a grey haze punctuated by the towers of the skyscrapers dotting Bangkok. It’s a miracle that there are not more air accidents, thinks Bernie, seeing the roofs of the buildings almost seeming to scrape the undercarriage as the plane lines up on the runway at Suvarnabhumi International Airport. During the journey, an old song had come into her head and now she couldn’t shift it.

  _One night in Bangkok and the world’s your oyster……_

She smiles to herself. The Biman Bangladesh Airways Boeing hits the runway in a crosswind and the passengers are thrown back against their seats as it brakes sharply, the reverse thrust causing the engines to howl in protest as the plane slows in jerky motions, finally taxiing to its parking stand exactly on schedule at 2.35 pm. Bernie stands to get her backpack from the overhead locker and joins the queue to disembark, her stomach giving little flutters every time she thinks of Serena waiting for her in arrivals. She feels out of her depth, uncertain of what awaits.

After receiving Serena’s message, Bernie had thought long and hard before replying. Her gut instinct was to run out of the tent where she was operating and jump on the nearest jeep heading for the airport; her second thought was what Serena would think if she came running so easily. Would she assume Bernie had come to Asia to follow her? And what next? Elinor’s death had exploded the happy little bubble they had occupied since Bernie returned from Kiev. Bernie knew it could never be the same, but she wasn’t sure what it could be. All her life she had been running and hiding. After Kiev she had promised Serena that she was there to stay. And she had kept her word, soaking up Serena’s pain, soaking up the abuse Serena had dished out to everyone, but especially to Bernie, trying to be her rock, until it was Serena who had left.  Bernie wasn’t sure she believed in happiness any more, if she ever had. For one brief period, she had relaxed her grip on her self-control and allowed a ray of sunshine to illuminate her world. Then the rain had come down again, first when Serena left, and then when the Trauma Centre was closed.

 In Bangladesh Bernie felt unsettled. She appreciated the opportunity to put her skills to good use, but the sheer horror of the emotional and physical trauma she was confronted with was almost too much, even for her iron carapace. Repairing broken bodies fallen in combat, blown to pieces by tanks and guns and mines had been her daily bread for 25 years and she could switch off her feelings as she focused on the technical aspects of the job. Looking into the eyes of a 12 year old girl, mute with pain and terror, who had been gang-raped after seeing her father and brothers killed in front of her, was something else. She felt Major Wolfe shrinking day by day, as if by having absorbed Serena’s pain, she had opened a chink in her armour. Serena’s recent cheerful messages were like a lifeline, a link to a saner world, one which even held a certain promise, but though the lure of Serena had won over her reticence, Bernie was still very much on her guard.

 By the time Bernie gets to the front of the immigration queue it is 3.25 and her stomach is churning in anticipation. The song is on a repeat loop-

  _One night in Bangkok and the world’s your oyster……_

_Da- da dee da- da da dee  da- da- da-da ....._

_I can feel an angel sliding up to me._

She wonders what Serena looks like now and whether they will recognise each other in the vastness of this airport. The unsmiling immigration officer indicates for her to look into the camera as he checks and stamps her passport, then suddenly she is in Thailand, and walking rapidly towards the arrivals concourse.

  **SERENA**

 “I hope I haven’t missed her “, worries Serena as she tries to find the best place to stand in Arrivals. Suvarnabhumi is huge and there are hundreds of people milling around. Biman touched down at 2.35 pm and now it’s 3.30 pm and still no sign of her. Knowing Bernie she’ll have only hand luggage, thinks Serena, so why is she taking so long? She herself arrived from Ho Chi Minh City over an hour before Bernie and she’s had 2 coffees since then, which have made her even more jittery and sent her on 2 trips to the bathroom.

 Suddenly a husky voice in her ear says “Serena”, and there she is, her golden angel, all legs and windswept locks. Serena turns and throws her arms around her.

 “Bernie, my God, I thought you were lost in the crowd,” she says before her mumbled protest is cut off by Bernie’s lips gently touching hers. Serena leans in for a longer kiss but Bernie pulls back almost immediately, pushing Serena away to examine her.

 “Hey”, she says grinning, “love the hair”.

 Serena self-consciously pats her cropped silvery locks as she looks Bernie up and down. She appears healthy enough, slightly tanned, but there are dark circles under her eyes and her blue cotton shirt is buttoned the wrong way. There’s a brown stain on the front which looks like coffee.

 “My my”, she says, “you are a sight for sore eyes,”, gently undoing the shirt and rebuttoning it correctly. The stain, she then sees, is over the front of the white T-shirt underneath as well.

 “No time for laundry?” she asks mischievously.

 “Hit an air pocket as they were serving coffee”, Bernie explains, “the shirt was open at the time. Not my most glamorous look, I have to admit.”

 “You always look wonderful to me”, says Serena, deciding not to mention the circles under the eyes. “You’re here, and God, I’ve missed you so much”.  She feels her eyes misting up and Bernie pulls her into a hug, holding her close, as Serena pushes her hands into that glorious hair, kissing her neck, breathing in the scent of Bernie, under the slightly damp smell of her clothes and her herbal shampoo.

 “I’ve missed you, too”, whispers Bernie, holding Serena around the waist and almost lifting her off her feet.

 “Ok, soldier”, Serena finally says, reluctantly breaking free, ‘no need to give the airport a show. Let’s get out of here. Our car awaits.” And she pulls up the handle of her smart little trolley as Bernie hoists her backpack and follows her.

 “So what’s the plan?” Bernie asks.

 “We have a pickup arranged by the hotel. They’ve messaged me to say the driver’s waiting.”

 As they approach the exit doors, Serena spots a uniformed man holding a sign saying “Serina Campell” under the logo of the hotel.

 “That’s us”, she says, going towards the man and smiling as she shows him her passport.

 Neither woman pays much attention to the scenery as they drive into the city. Serena grasps Bernie’s hand and tangles their fingers together. She is cautious about too overt a display of affection in front of the driver, and Bernie seems nervous, a little remote.

 “Have you been here before?” asks Serena.

 “No, first time”, replies Bernie looking out of the window at the relentless panorama of mismatched construction interspersed by the odd shiny temple. “It’s..er..quite something”.

 “I did transit here once on my way to Australia, but never saw outside the airport”.

 “So, tell me about Saigon”, Bernie says, turning to look at Serena, her eyes dark. “It sounds so romantic”.

 “It’s great, actually,” says Serena. “I feel quite at home now”, and for the rest of the journey she tells Bernie about Vero and Nick, the hospital, Pilou and Tien, her new contract, and Bernie listens, never taking her eyes off Serena. Every now and then those eyes drop to her chest, where Serena knows she has left one button too many open on her silk shirt. She feels a tremor of anticipation as she sees the hungry look in Bernie’s eyes.

 “Down, soldier”, she mutters, squeezing Bernie’s hand and using her thumb to caress it. Bernie says nothing but just looks, her eyes huge and black.

 Bangkok traffic is horrendous and as they near their exit from the motorway into the city, they get stuck in a long queue of traffic. Serena feels increasingly desperate to be alone with Bernie, but also apprehensive. Can they reconnect as seamlessly as before? She is still pondering this, holding Bernie’s hand and stroking her knuckles when the car pulls into the front of a large hotel. A uniformed, white-gloved doorman rushes to open the door and they get out as their luggage is conveyed into the reception area.

 The room is huge and contains one queen sized bed and one single, Serena taking no chances; but Bernie barely looks at the room as she dumps her rucksack, shrugs off her shirt and sneakers and, to Serena’s relief, flops onto the queen bed.

 “Wow! Luxury”, she says.

 “What, have you been living in a tent?” asks Serena.

 “Not exactly, but things were pretty basic”, yawns Bernie.

 “Do you want to talk about it? “, says Serena.

 Serena is about to unpack her case, but sensing that Bernie may want to offload, she slips off her shoes and comes over to sit on the bed facing her. This time, Bernie takes Serena’s hand and strokes it. Not looking at her directly, she says, “You can’t imagine how appalling the situation is”, and goes on to detail the huge increase in numbers that MSF has seen coming over the Myanmar border since the previous month, and the terrible suffering of the refugees, as witnessed by Bernie and the other doctors.

 “I don’t think I’ve ever performed so many amputations”, says Bernie, grimly, “and that’s despite three tours in Iraq and four in Afghanistan”.

 Serena is taken aback.

 “Hey, where’s Major Wolfe? What have you done with her?” she teases.

 Bernie is quiet for a moment, then she raises her eyes to Serena’s. “I’m wondering that myself”, she says, her eyes suddenly filling with tears.  And she pulls Serena down to her, holding her tight against her chest. Serena can feel Bernie’s tears as they roll into her hair.

 “It’s OK, soldier, let it all out”, she murmurs as Bernie relaxes into her, her heartbeat slowing as Serena soothes her.

 After a while, Serena raises her head and is surprised to find Bernie fast asleep, her arms having loosened their grip on Serena, her head turned to one side, hair over her face. Serena feels a sudden tide of emotion- mingled empathy and regret for the sequence of events that have brought them- and Bernie particularly- to this point. She realises that all the time she has been finding her feet in Saigon and beginning to pull out of the darkness of the grief that overwhelmed her back in Holby, Bernie has been in a dark tunnel of her own, almost certainly struggling, and, knowing her, without confiding in anyone or seeking emotional support. For a moment Serena feels her throat constrict with new grief, then she pulls herself together and sits up. As gently as she can, she pushes the soft blonde locks out of Bernie’s eyes and quietly moves off the bed, unzipping her case and hanging her clothes up. She picks up Bernie’s shirt from the floor and takes it to the bathroom to remove the coffee stain and rinse it out. Then she lifts the rucksack and opens it to hang Bernie’s clothes. Unzipping it, she pulls out two crumpled T-shirts, a couple of vest tops, a spare pair of skinny jeans, a pair of khaki chino shorts, a white short-sleeved shirt and a patterned cotton shift dress she hasn’t seen before, with a tangle of basic cotton knickers and bras stuffed in a corner. All the clothes smell damp, as if they have not been properly dried or aired. Serena takes them and puts them on hangers, not sure what else to do. She spreads the underwear across the spare bed hoping it will air in the AC. Then she stretches out on the bed next to Bernie and picks up her Kindle.

 Serena must have dozed off herself because she comes to when Bernie moves. Her Kindle has slipped to one side and her reading glasses are down her nose. She sees a flash of blonde, then Bernie’s dark eyes come into view. Serena carefully removes her glasses and puts the Kindle on the bedside table.

 “Hey”, she greets her. “You were out for the count”.

 “So were you – snoring too!” retorts Bernie.

 “Was not!” Serena is indignant, and Bernie laughs, rubbing her nose against Serena’s affectionately. “I’m afraid you were, but it was very ladylike”.

 Serena inhales that Bernie smell that is suddenly all over her, seized instantly by a wave of lust rolling in to greet her like an old friend. Putting both hands on Bernie’s head, she pulls her up so that their lips connect. Serena moans as Bernie opens her mouth and responds fiercely, then she is tugging at Bernie’s T shirt, which soon ends up on the floor, along with Serena’s silk blouse and her lacy red bra. Bernie is cupping and squeezing Serena’s breasts as Serena arches into her and her hands are unzipping Serena’s trousers, pushing them down. Serena whimpers as those fingers get nearer where she wants them. It’s been such a long time since Serena felt like this, and in the rush to seek relief, she pushes aside all thoughts of the dark moments of the past months. This feels right, so good; Bernie’s hand is there now, impatiently pushing down her knickers and stroking her wetness while her lips are fastened onto Serena’s nipple, sucking and scraping gently with her teeth. Serena knows it won’t take much so she tries to slow Bernie down, pulling her back up for a kiss, taking time to rid her of the bra which forms a barrier between them. Bernie continues to stroke, each time a little harder, slipping one then two fingers inside, and Serena writhes against her, breaking the kiss, moaning aloud, no longer able to stop the momentum of her orgasm which is building, building, finally cresting the wave as Bernie twists her fingers just so, her thumb gentling on Serena’s clit as her walls contract and a gush of wetness coats Bernie’s hand. Bernie keeps her fingers inside, nipping and kissing Serena’s neck as Serena comes down, panting.

 It is only later that it occurs to Serena that Bernie has been totally silent throughout. As she regains her senses, Serena turns to kiss Bernie tenderly. “That was amazing”, she says, “I’ve missed that so much”. Bernie gently extricates her fingers and places her hand over Serena’s mound.

 “More?” she asks. Which is another strange thing because the old Bernie would not have asked, she would just keep on going until Serena begged her to stop.

 “I rather think it’s your turn now, Major”, she smiles, batting her eyelashes, but Bernie rolls over and looks at her watch.

 “Gosh, it’s seven already. What about continuing this later, after dinner?” she asks.

 Serena is disappointed, but doesn’t show it.

 “Delayed gratification, eh? OK, your choice. I’m going to need some energy for later”, she smirks flirtatiously. “What do you fancy for dinner? I have a whole list of suggestions from my new pal Connie,” picking up her phone from the bedside table.

 Bernie is sitting up now, her hair tousled, topless but still in her skinny jeans. Serena takes a moment to admire her beautiful breasts and flat stomach as Bernie reaches for her bra and puts it on, then gets off the bed to look for a clean top.

 “You know, I’m not sure I’m ready for the full Thai culinary experience,” she says, opening her backpack. “I’ve had nothing but curry for a month…oh!  where are my clothes?”, she asks, puzzled.

 “I hung them for you, I .er..thought it would save you time”. Serena feels she is walking through a minefield, not wanting to offend Bernie, but Bernie shrugs.

 “Well, the creases might have dropped out a bit”, she says, selecting a sage green vest top and the white short-sleeved shirt to go with her black jeans.

 “Well, how about this- apparently the best pizza and pasta in Bangkok is to be had at a place just a 10 minute ride from here. What do you say? No need for a reservation. It also has an extensive wine selection”.

 “Sounds fine”, says Bernie, trying to pull her hair into some semblance of order.

 Serena redresses in her burgundy silk shirt and black trousers, just replacing her soaked underwear with a clean pair, seeing no point in dressing up. She visits the bathroom and touches up her lipstick, adding a spray of her favourite perfume. She notes that her cheeks are still pink and her lips look slightly puffy. Hopefully there will be more where that came from once they get back from the restaurant, she thinks.

 “Let’s go”, Bernie says, bending to lace her red Converse sneakers, pulling a face as she stands up.

 “Something wrong?”

 “Just a bit of a headache”, she says, “must be dehydrated”, grabbing a small bottle of water from the mini bar and taking a glug before stuffing it into her handbag.

 The restaurant turns out to be dimly lit and with an impressive range of dishes. The front doubles as a wine shop and Serena thinks she may well be coming back here to peruse the selection. They find a small intimate table at the back near a window overlooking the street. Bangkok is still crazy busy at 8pm, the traffic almost gridlocked, people everywhere. They decide on the spinach and ricotta ravioli and a Pizza Quattro Stagione to share.

 "What, no pineapple?” Serena is shocked.

 “I’ve kind of gone off it”, admits Bernie, “pineapple overdose in Bangladesh – breakfast, dessert, you name it. But it’s just not the same without ham!”

 “Well that takes all the fun out of ordering pizza”, retorts Serena, brandishing the wine list.

“Hmmm, Jacob’s Creek 2012…impressive. Bottle?”

 “Um, actually, I haven’t been drinking much in Bangla. A beer will do me. And more water?”

She holds up her empty bottle.

 A by now very puzzled Serena promptly orders a large glass of Shiraz, a local beer and a bottle of water.

 “Are you sure you’re alright?” she finally can’t help asking.

 “Absolutely”, Bernie beams back at her, “just a bit of a headache from the early start and the flight”, toying with her napkin.

 The dinner is excellent but Bernie manages only one piece of pizza,  two ravioli parcels, three swallows of her beer and the whole bottle of water. Serena dares not say anything but tries to keep the conversation cheerful and on the subject of people they know.

 “So how is Frieda coping?” she asks.

 “Probably wishes she’d stayed in Pakistan. I mean, the rains and the humidity and the mozzies are quite bad enough, but some of the surgeries we’ve done have been …well, heart-breaking.”

 “Yes, I remember you telling me she cried when you did that abortion.”

 “I damn near cried myself”, Bernie says, pausing in the act of bringing a ravioli parcel to her mouth. Then she drops her fork. “Frieda seems like a bit of a cold fish on the outside, but her problem is that she gets too emotionally committed. She was very close to a family in Lahore and their daughter died in childbirth, so this just set her off. The rest of the time she’s mostly OK. Actually, she’s really brilliant with the old men. They love her,” she chuckles, pushing her plate away and yawning.

 “You seem exhausted”, Serena says, patting her hand. Come on, Major, tomorrow’s another day. Let’s get back to the hotel and have a good night’s sleep, eh?”

 “Sleep? Are you sure about that?” teases Bernie, and Serena’s cheeks go pink.

 While Serena signs the credit card slip, she sees Bernie surreptitiously rub her knuckles over her temples, her face very pale.

 “Headache still bothering you?” Serena asks as they walk to the exit.

 “A bit, but it’s nothing, it’ll pass”. Serena’s anxiety is still there, but she says nothing, just takes Bernie’s hand and waves down a taxi outside, where she shows the driver the card from the hotel written in Thai.  

 Once back in the room, Bernie says she needs a shower and disappears into the bathroom. Once upon a time, Serena would have suggested sharing, but tonight she doesn’t feel it’s appropriate. Clearly, something is wrong with Bernie- either something physical, or there is something bothering her. Serena’s insecurity can’t block the fear that Bernie no longer loves her, and is making a bad job of hiding it.

 When Bernie comes out of the bathroom in a long T-shirt, she goes to her backpack, fishing out a sweatshirt.

 “Is the AC too cold for you? “ Serena asks.  “We could make it warmer”.

 “No, it’s fine, I know you like to be cool. I just feel a bit chilly, not used to it, I expect. Don’t worry, I’ll put this on”.

 “Very sexy”, laughs Serena.

 “I mean, until you come and warm me up”, says Bernie, jumping into the bed and under the duvet.

 As she showers, Serena is in two minds. Should she make the first move or wait for Bernie to come to her? What if Bernie is forcing herself to be intimate with Serena when she really doesn’t want it?

 The moment Serena gets into bed, Bernie comes burrowing into her. “God, I missed your warmth”, she breathes, squeezing Serena’s butt cheeks and pulling their bodies flush against each other. Serena exhales in relief, wrapping her arms round Bernie and seeking her mouth.

 “I missed you so much, too!” she whispers as their mouths come hotly together and they deepen the kiss. Serena feels desire uncoiling in her belly again but waits to see what Bernie wants to do. She is getting the very odd sensation that something is seriously wrong and she doesn’t want to put Bernie under any kind of pressure. Meanwhile, Bernie is hugging her and responding to the kiss, but making no move to take it further.

 “I love you, Major”, she whispers, rubbing her nose against Bernie’s.

 “I’m sorry, Serena”, Bernie says. 

 Serena’s heart sinks. “Sorry for what?’

 “I’m not really up to par tonight.”

 “Darling”, says Serena, “you’re obviously exhausted and, well, it’s been a long time since we…”

 “Almost nine months”, says Bernie quietly.

 “Is it really? Yes, I suppose it is”, Serena concedes, well aware that this is the first time since Elinor died that they have been intimate. “I think we need to learn each other again”, she says, smiling as she rubs her cheek against Bernie’s.

 Bernie is lying very still, with her eyes closed, and Serena suddenly becomes aware of how hot she is. Her cheeks are burning. Serena feels her anxiety ratcheting up in a whole new direction. She lays her hand on Bernie’s forehead and realises that she has a high fever and that what she had taken to be a lack of interest could actually be serious illness. Thoughts of malaria run through Serena’s mind.

 “Bernie”, she whispers, “talk to me”.

 “What?”, Bernie opens her eyes, alarmed by Serena’s tone. “What is it?”

 “Darling, I think you’re ill. You have a very high fever….. and you had a headache earlier”.

 “It’s nothing”, mumbles Bernie, “probably a touch of flu”.

 “Or a touch of malaria?”

 “No”, insists Bernie, “not malaria. I took malaria pills and anyway, I’ve had malaria before. I know what it feels like”.

 Serena scrambles out of bed and fetches her paracetamol from her bag, pouring Bernie a glass of water.

 “Take these”, she insists.

 Bernie rolls her eyes but props herself up in bed and dutifully takes the pills. That alone tells Serena that it is serious.

 As soon as Bernie has laid back down, Serena ups the room temperature setting to 26 degrees, and goes to the kettle to boil some water. The hotel provides a selection of teas so she chooses chamomile and makes a cup for Bernie. When she goes back to the bed, Bernie is shivering.

 “Here, drink this, Major, it’ll warm you up”, she says, helping her to sit up.

 After drinking the tea, Bernie seems easier, so Serena gets back into bed and wraps her arms round Bernie, spooning her. Bernie falls asleep immediately.

 Serena wakes two hours later to feel the bed vibrating. Turning on the bedside light she sees Bernie shivering and shaking, her teeth gritted and face contorted in pain.

 “Bernie”, she says, in great distress, “oh Bernie!”

 Bernie doesn’t answer but is plainly delirious, her limbs moving jerkily, mumbling words Serena can’t make out.  Serena isn’t sure what to do. This doesn’t look like flu, or anything she has seen before. Bernie seemed sure it wasn’t malaria- but Serena doesn’t want to discount it. She looks at the time- 1am, then she calls Pilou.

 Pilou is still up, in a bar by the sounds of it, but he immediately goes outside when he realises that Serena needs his help.

 She describes Bernie’s symptoms, the headache, high fever, fatigue and now delirium and apparent pain. Pilou, the Tropical Medicine specialist, doesn’t take long to come to a conclusion.

 “Of course you can’t be sure until you’ve run tests but it sounds like dengue fever to me. You say she was taking malaria pills and has had malaria before, so she’s probably right, it’s not that. Dengue is a major problem all over tropical Asia. It’s a mosquito-borne disease, and dengue mozzies bite from morning till evening, so she would have been pretty exposed out there. She will also have seen plenty of it herself with those Rohingya refugees- she’s probably aware of what it is. Dengue is often characterised by severe joint and bone pain, so, if she’s gritting her teeth and in obvious pain, that could be the reason, that and the headache. Any vomiting? That’s another possible symptom. “

 “No, not so far,” Serena responds. “What should I do? The fever is very high, I don’t think I can bring it down here with just paracetamol”.

 “No, you need to get her to hospital, dengue can sometimes have complications. Look, Tien’s brother-in-law, Chai, is a doctor at Bumrungrad, the best hospital in Bangkok. I’ll give him a call and see if he can send someone to help you get her into a car and over there. At the very least, she needs IV fluids and painkillers, and an ELISA test, which will confirm whether it’s dengue. If not, she’ll be in the best place for a diagnosis. Oh, and Serena, find out if her health insurance will cover it”.

 Five minutes later, long minutes in which Serena’s head swirls as she googles dengue fever and feels her insides knotting with tension, he calls back and confirms that Chai is on call that evening and he and Tien’s sister, also a doctor, will come to help Serena transport Bernie to the hospital and get her admitted. Serena meanwhile decides she has to call Elliot, whatever the time. Elliot was asleep but is responsive as soon as he hears why Serena is calling.

 “Poor Bernie. She’s had a rough time of it here, I can tell you. It’s very intense. Look, Serena, you do whatever it takes to get her well and don’t worry about cost. Bumrungrad is one of the best hospitals in Asia, she couldn’t be in a safer place. Bernie should have the medical insurance card in her wallet- can you check? OK, it’s there, that’s fine. Just show that to the admissions people and her MSF ID-it’s direct billing, you won’t need to pay a thing.” “Thanks, Elliot, I’m grateful.”

“Serena, don’t let Bernie worry about coming back to work. If it’s dengue, she’ll need at least 2 weeks to recover so her rotation will be almost over. As it happens, I’m coming to Bangkok myself on Monday for a conference, I’ll hook up with you both then. Take care and give my love to Bernie.”

 Serena dresses hastily in yesterday’s clothes, then goes back to the bed, where Bernie is now thrashing around, sweating profusely, and rolls down the duvet, putting a cool flannel on her forehead as she jerks and writhes.

 “Bernie”, says Serena, “Bernie, can you hear me.”

 “Frieda”…mumbles Bernie, “where’s  Frieda?”

 “Bernie darling, it’s Serena, I’m here, I’ve got you, darling, you’re safe, but you’re sick, we’re going to the hospital.”

 Bernie opens her eyes briefly, but seems not to recognise Serena. Then she mumbles “dengue”, and Serena’s heart sinks as she realises that Bernie has probably been aware all along, but in denial.

 Within 30 minutes, the phone rings and reception announces that two doctors have arrived.

 “Send them up”, says Serena, going to the door to open it.

 A cheerful Thai man in his 40’s appears, pushing a fold-up wheelchair, accompanied by a beautiful woman whose facial features are familiar to Serena. The woman comes forward and grasps Serena’s hand.

 “Serena,” she says in perfect American English, “I’m Tien’s sister, Quyen, and this is my husband, Chai. Tien has told me what a good friend you are, we’re here to help. Let’s get your partner into the hospital as quickly as possible, and don’t worry, she’s in very safe hands.”

Together they lift Bernie and sit her in the chair. Serena grabs her handbag, shoving Bernie’s phone and wallet inside, and then they wheel her to their people carrier and lay her across the seat. Serena climbs in and takes Bernie’s head onto her lap, holding her and murmuring soothing words as the car pulls out into the Bangkok night.


	7. I Suppose It's My Turn Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernie is in hospital recovering from dengue fever and intends to return to return to work as soon as she is released. Elliot and Serena have other ideas. Bernie is not the world's best patient. Definitely no smut here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a filler to let Bernie's situation sink in, and, of course, for Serena to do some mental plotting of her own. Where on earth could Bernie go to convalesce? Find out in the next chapter.
> 
> Bernie isn't aware, but both her nurses are Filipino, not Thai. Filipinos make up a significant percentage of the nursing population in private hospitals in Asia. Many leave their homes and families behind for years as they work to earn money to send back to the Philippines, where jobs are scarce and life is often poor and dangerous.Their command of English, generally good education and the fact that they are paid much less than western medical staff make them popular. I had a short hospital stay a couple of years ago and the best nurse on my ward was a young Filipino who had the night shift. This chapter is in honour of these much under- appreciated professionals.
> 
> Title from "Leaving Me Now" by Level 42

The room is semi-dark, the bright light of morning pushing at the blinds, and a bank of winking monitors throws a green glow over the bedside table. Bernie is impatient to get up; for some reason, her alarm didn’t go off and she knows she’ll be late for surgery if she doesn’t get in the shower very soon. She tries to sit up, but her arm is attached to something, and when she looks down she sees that she is on a drip. She flops back down against the pillows, her temples thumping, and a wave of nausea hits her. She lies still, panting, feeling dizzy and weak all over her body, spine sore and her muscles protesting. She tries to compute the evidence. Hospital, obviously, air- conditioned room, and she seems to be alone. There’s something wrong with her, and then she remembers, she has dengue fever. Damn!

 While she lies wondering exactly where she is, the door opens and a young man in a nurse’s uniform enters.

 “Oh, you’re awake”, he says, in a singsong accent Bernie doesn’t recognise. He doesn’t look Bengali, either. His name tag says ‘Daniel Ocampo’.

 “I’m Danny, I’m the night duty nurse”, he says, coming to check her drip and the numbers on the monitors.

 “Where am I?” asks Bernie, feeling somewhat foolish.

 “Bumrungrad hospital, in Bangkok”.

 “Bangkok?” she asks but as she speaks, her memory sparks. Ohhh……

 “What day is it?” feeling anxious now.

 “Sunday morning, seven am”, he says, smiling at her.

 “Sunday? But….”

 “This is your second night. You were admitted in the early hours of Saturday morning with a bad fever”.

 “I see…” she is at a loss for further questions to ask. There are too many and she needs to process this information and get her priorities straight.

 “Dr. Chai is waiting for you to wake up so I’ll call him and he’ll come and talk to you, OK?”

 “Dr. Chai?” she asks

 But Danny just smiles again, he seems to have his smile on an auto switch, thinks Bernie in annoyance, and as he leaves the room he says “I’ll bring you some tea”.

 Bernie feels frustrated and impatient for this doctor, whoever he is, to come and release her from the drip so that she can go and get back on with her life…… another thought: Serena. Serena was in this somehow. The cogs begin whirring and Bernie remembers she came to Bangkok to meet Serena. As she is trying to piece together the hours since she arrived, the door opens again and a man with a white coat over jeans and a checked shirt enters briskly and opens the blinds half way, letting the morning light into the room but still blocking the glare of the sun. He turns to face her, smiling cheerfully. He is a trim, spare man in his early forties, Bernie judges, with a smooth, mobile face and bright, intelligent eyes. Bernie likes him immediately. He exudes an air of confidence, and of pragmatic concern.

 “Good morning, Dr. Wolfe,” he says, “I’m glad you’re awake. I’m Dr. Chai. Do you know how you came to be here?”

 “I have dengue fever, I think,” Bernie says.

 “Yes, that is confirmed. Contracted in Bangladesh somewhere in the last 7-10 days, I’d say. Luckily for you, there are no complications and no damage so far to your liver or internal organs. Your partner was very quick to bring you in, so you have her to thank for the early response”.

 "You mean Serena? She brought me in?”

 He smiles and puts his hands in the pockets of his coat, much as Bernie herself is wont to do.

 “I guess you‘re out of the loop, so let me fill you in. Serena called a friend who is a Tropical Medicine specialist in Ho Chi Minh City, and they contacted me to ask for help. We brought you here, with Serena. She has taken care of all the paperwork.”

 Bernie is silent, trying to work out what she wants to say next. Dr. Chai says, gently,

 “Serena stayed here with you all day on Saturday, from the time you were brought in. I sent her back to the hotel last night to get some rest. I expect she’ll be along shortly”.

 “Could you ask her to bring my clothes?” Bernie asks.

 Dr. Chai smiles. “I doubt you’ll be needing them for at least 24 hours, but here, why don’t you ask her yourself? “ and he opens the drawer of the bedside table and takes out her iPhone, which he hands to her.

 “Dr. Chai,” Bernie says in a panic, “I’m a Trauma Surgeon with MSF in Bangladesh. I have to get back to work- I have a flight on Tuesday morning.”

 “Dr. Wolfe- Bernie, if I may, you’ve just come round from an attack of dengue fever. As you yourself surely know, dengue takes 3-5 days of full bed rest for recovery to take place. During that time you will probably have a relapse. The standard initial sick leave recommendation is 7-10 days for mild cases, so work is out of the question.  I suggest you lie back, relax and let us take care of the rest”.

 He slides a thermometer into her armpit and shakes his head as he reads it.

 “Better- it was 104 **○** Fwhen you were admitted- but it’s still over 100 **○** F- you’ll probably have another bout before you turn the corner”.

 Bernie is frowning. Then the door opens and Danny the Smile comes in with a glass of hot, amber coloured liquid.

 “Tea with lemon, ginger and honey”, he says, putting it down on her tray table and departing swiftly.

 “We’re not going to give you the room service menu yet”, Chai says, “you have the drip feeding you and you’re still probably nauseous. The ginger will help with that”.

  “When can this come out?” Bernie indicates the catheter.

 “Let’s wait for the fever to subside totally. When or if it comes back you’ll need the intravenous painkillers.”

 Bernie is silent, unused to being on the other end of the stethoscope and not sure how to take it. Then the door opens and Serena appears.

 Bernie feels a surge of emotion as she looks at her. Serena is fresh, dressed in smart, clean clothes, her silvery hair brushed back, her eyes warm and smiling. She’s carrying a shopping bag that she deposits next to the bed.

 “Hi Serena”, says Chai. “How did you sleep?”

 “Better than our patient here, I bet”, she says, moving to the bed and taking Bernie ‘s hand in hers.

 “Darling, you’re awake! How are you feeling?”

 “Somewhat put out”, says Chai with a cheerful grin before Bernie can respond. “I think I need to leave you two to talk”.

 “Oh, Chai,” calls Serena, delving into her bag, before he completely leaves the room, “I’ve returned the scrubs you lent me, here”, and she holds out two blue garments, which he takes as he exits.

 “See you later, Bernie”, he says.

 “Why did you need their scrubs?” asks Bernie, the first time she has spoken to Serena since she fell ill.

 “Because you vomited on me, darling, as we were getting you out of the car. Thankfully you didn’t spoil their rather fancy interior”, she laughs.

 “Oh”, Bernie is humiliated.

 “Now, Major, chin up and drink your tea”, Serena holds the glass to Bernie’s lips and she takes several small, reluctant sips before pushing it away and lying back on her pillows, eyes closed.  Resentment and disappointment burn within. She came all the way here to meet Serena, to try to negotiate a way forward for their relationship, to show Serena that she was stronger and that she had coped without her, and now here she is like a baby, weak and helpless, chained to a drip, and with Serena playing Mummy.

 Serena is quiet for a few minutes and Bernie keeps her eyes closed. Finally Serena takes Bernie’s hand and says, “Elliot has registered you as being on sick leave, you don’t have to worry about returning on Tuesday.”

 “I need to change my flight”, Bernie says, still not opening her eyes.

 “Elliot’s coming to Bangkok tomorrow for a conference, so best talk to him yourself and arrange all that”. Serena doesn’t want to get into a discussion about Bernie terminating her rotation prematurely. She can imagine it won’t go down well with the stubborn Major.

 There is a silence. Serena has a tendency to fill silences with nervous chatter, but now she feels she’s walking on eggshells. The UK’s leading frontline trauma surgeon is not cut out to be a patient, and Serena doesn’t want to antagonize her further.

 Finally, it is Bernie who speaks, unable to hold back the many questions that have been plaguing her since she woke up.

 “How did you know to bring me here, to this hospital?”, she asks, so Serena happily fills her in on the background, the call to Pilou, the connection to Tien’s sister and her husband, and how kind and helpful they had been. Bernie nods, despite her resentment at being a patient, she can see how lucky she was that she was with Serena when she was struck down.

 “Could you bring me some clothes from the hotel?” she asks. “As soon as my temperature goes down I’d like to have a shower and get dressed”.

 “Of course”, Serena says. At Bernie’s request she then takes Bernie’s iPhone and, switching it on, logs onto the hospital wifi. The phone starts beeping with incoming messages. Bernie stares at the screen, then wordlessly hands the device to Serena.

 "Please send back some non-committal messages? Don’t alarm anyone, but make sure they’re not worried about me”.

 Serena focuses on the screen. The first is from Frieda:

_I hope you and Serena are having a wonderful time together! I’m so happy you were able to go and meet her. I’m lying on the beach just enjoying peace and quiet! See you soon and enjoy Bangkok! x_

 The second is also from Frieda:

  _OMG, Elliot just told me about your dengue fever! Oh Bernie, that’s such bad luck. I hope you recover soon, lucky Serena is there with you. X_

Serena types rapidly:

  _Hi Frieda, Serena here. Bernie’s fine, just tired and still has a temperature, but this is a mild dose, it seems, so hopefully she’ll be back on her feet in a few days. Have a good break. X_

The third is from Cameron:

  _Hey Mum, don’t you ever answer your messages? Just call or message me, dying to know how you’re doing in Bangkok. Love to Serena. x_

The fourth is from Jason:

  _Auntie Bernie, I saw a programme on TV last night about the Rohingya- it was very interesting and I thought of you. I would love to discuss their history with you some time and find out more about the situation you are working in. Please tell me what day and time we can talk on Skype. Love Jason._

The fifth and final message is from Charlotte:

  _Bumped into Morven in Sainsbury’s – she told me you had gone to Bangkok to meet Serena. You crafty thing, I had no idea. Please get in touch and let us know how you’re getting on. We miss you. Morven and I had a bit of a chat and I really like her. So does Cam. I think they could be getting serious. Can you and Serena FaceTime with us while you’re over there? We’d love to see you together again. xxx_

Serena quickly drafts a reply to Charlotte and Cameron that gives them the bare facts about their mother’s illness, but stresses that she is well cared for and expected to recover soon. She said they will catch up with them when Bernie is feeling better.

 She resolves to draft a separate message to Jason from her own phone so that he won’t pester Bernie too much with questions.

 She has just hit return on the screen when there is a knock at the door, and Quyen comes in.

 “Hey”, she says “thought I’d come and see how our world famous trauma surgeon is doing!”

 “Quyen”, says Serena, “lovely to see you, do come in”.

 Bernie is starting to feel like the Elephant Man, with all the world coming to gawp at her. She is also starting to feel ill again, her head pounding, cheeks hot.

 She starts to drift, and doesn’t pay much attention to the conversation between Serena and the new person, and the next thing she knows, they have gone and Dr. Chai comes briskly back into the room. He partially closes the blinds and checks Bernie’s IV bag. A female nurse appears and Chai tells her to increase the dose of painkiller and keep Bernie on 30 minute obs while the fever plays out. When he leaves, Bernie feels herself sinking back into drowsiness. She is vaguely aware of hands putting a cool compress on her forehead and of a fan blowing on her, but she is lost in a dreamworld where images of Serena are mixed up with those of Frieda, of the two of them performing emergency surgery in a basic camp hospital, and of the blank, haunted eyes of the women she has to examine and treat. At one point, she finds herself making love to Serena, but she is in scrubs, in her operating theatre, and Serena’s face suddenly changes into that of Frieda. Bernie recoils in shock and tries to pull away. Her restless movements and moaning sounds have the day shift nurse rushing back in and putting more cooling towels on her forehead and adjusting the drip in her arm. Bernie sinks back into a feverish slumber, her mind restlessly jumping around and playing games with her memory.

  **SERENA**

 Quyen had offered to take Serena shopping, so after visiting Bernie and promising to come back later, Serena went to meet her in the hospital reception area. The two women left the hospital on foot.

 “I’m taking you on the Skytrain”, Quyen said. “It’s the best way to negotiate Bangkok because the traffic is gridlocked much of the day. It’s also fun and easy, especially if you like a good cardio workout.”

 Serena soon discovered what Quyen meant when they reached the BTS Skytrain station and climbed the steep stairs to the ticket area. Quyen went ahead, her slim, athletic body negotiating the stairs with ease. Serena tried to conceal her shortness of breath as they reached the top and went to the ticket machines. Quyen showed her how to select her journey and get a ticket for the ride, then they went through the ticket barriers and, to Serena’s relief, found an escalator up to the platform level. Quyen explained that she was taking Serena to the biggest and most popular shopping mall in Bangkok, Siam Paragon, where she would find everything she needed.

Quyen was as good as her word. Once they got inside, she asked Serena what she wanted to buy and then guided her to a huge Japanese clothing store. Serena explained that Bernie’s clothes smelled of damp and that she had sent them all to the hotel laundry and she wanted to be able to give her some fresh, clean, new clothes for when she left hospital. Bernie’s style was plain and simple, she explained, neutral colours, classic styles and not over expensive. Serena was delighted with the store, and, apart from buying a couple of tees, a lightweight hoodie and a short-sleeved shirt for Bernie, together with some rather sexy boyshorts and a lightweight bra, she also invested in a dress for herself and a pair of black, figure-hugging jeggings that were very slimming. Seeing they were on special offer, she also picked up a light coloured pair for Bernie, in extra long.  

To get the right sizing, Serena had picked a member of the store staff who was roughly Bernie’s size and height and used her as a model, much to Quyen’s amusement. The same woman then went behind the cash desk to ring up Serena’s purchases.

When they were leaving, Quyen said “Of course, you do realise that was a man who served you?”

 “What?” said Serena “But she was beautiful…and her breasts…”

 “Yes” said Quyen, “but did you see the Adam’s apple? Kind of gives the game away.”

 Serena reflected for a moment then admitted she had been completely convinced by the staff member.

 “Is that common,” she asked, “for trans women to be hired in shops like that, even if they’re not completely …er.. converted?

 “Oh yes”, said Quyen. “Which is one of the things I find most refreshing in Thailand. There is no prejudice here against gays or trans people or just gender fluid people generally. “

 "That’s amazing”, said Serena, genuinely impressed.

 Quyen then took her to the food court for lunch, where she ordered several typical Thai dishes for Serena to try.

 “Do you speak Thai?” Serena asked Quyen.

 “I sort of get by”, Quyen admitted. “Our children are bilingual in Thai and English, but I only know what I need to know. I can’t read it”.

 “Do the children speak Vietnamese?” Serena wanted to know. Quyen sighed, and pushed the rice to the side of her plate.

 “My family in Vietnam is rich”, she said. “Tien and I grew up with a lot of priveleges. We have another sister, who lives in Australia. All of us escaped from Vietnam for our studies as soon as we could. The result is that all three of us were cut off from Vietnamese culture and language in our formative years. I went to the US when I was 15 and stayed there for the next 14 years. I didn’t study Vietnamese at all in that time, so I’m actually better in English, especially in reading and writing, than I am in Vietnamese. I met Chai in Singapore on a postgraduate course in epidemiology. He studied in the UK and we’ve always spoken English together. Now, living in Thailand, he speaks Thai to the children and I speak English. I did try to speak to them in Vietnamese when they were young, but there’s no reinforcement here. So the answer is, yes, they can understand, when they go on family visits and people speak to them in Vietnamese, but they are not at all invested in Vietnamese, and that’s my fault.”

 “You’re a doctor, too, I understand"  Serena said.

“I have a medical degree and trained as a general practitioner, spending a few years in the US on internships, then I got a job in Singapore as a corporate doctor, and that’s how I came to take the course and meet Chai. In Thailand I now work for a company that provides medical support to international schools. I’m a manager, and I spend three days a week in my daughter’s international school as the on-call doctor. The working hours are flexible, and that suits me.”

Serena nodded, scooping up the last delicious mouthful of her red curry and moving  the plate aside to make room for the dessert dish.

 “And what about you, Serena? Tien says you’re a vascular surgeon back in England”.

 “Yes”, said Serena, taking a spoonful of fresh coconut cream and dropping it onto her mango.

 “He was really raving about you,” Quyen smiled. “Said he’d never seen such neat work”.

 “That’s generous of him”, acknowledged Serena. “He’s got huge potential as a general surgeon.  I think he could make consultant in a few years.”

 “He was always the most gifted of us children”, said Quyen. “Our father was a famous surgeon, you know, he trained in France, which is why Tien wanted a French education”.

 “And what do you think of Pilou?” asked Serena, hoping she was not overstepping any boundaries.

 “Oh, he’s really good for Tien. They’re like chalk and cheese- Tien is a typical geek- a bit quiet and introverted, but Pilou is the opposite. Of course, my parents are very against Tien being gay. They’ve never accepted it even though they wouldn’t disinherit him or anything. I’m just surprised they continue to live and work in Vietnam when they could have a better, freer life elsewhere. “

 “How restrictive is Vietnam for LGBT people?” asked Serena, indulging in her fantasy of  getting  Bernie to live with her there.

 “You’d have to ask Tien or Pilou, but my feeling is that as long as you are not obvious about it, most people couldn’t care less. According to the guys, there’s a strong gay scene there, but for women I don’t know. I don’t think most people are even aware of gay women.”

 She looked at her watch “Hey, it’s past two, I guess we should be moving on”.

 

**BERNIE**

 It is early evening when Bernie surfaces again. The room is dark, apart from the beside lamp. Her vision clears and she realizes that her headache has subsided, but her hair is stuck to her forehead and her hospital gown is wet with sweat. With her left hand she pulls down the covers to cool herself. As she does so, she accidentally presses the call button, and in a few seconds, the nurse comes bustling in.

“Oh, you’re awake”, she says, in the same singsong accent as Danny The Smile. Her name tag reads  “Rowena Torres”. She takes Bernie’s temperature, examines the drip bag and asks how she’s feeling. Bernie says she feels much better, but she’s very sweaty, she would like a shower.

 “I can’t let you get out of bed yet,” Rowena says, “but we can change the bedding and give you a sponge down.”

 Bernie frowns. “Can I see Dr. Chai?’

 “Dr. Chai is off-duty now but he will see you first thing in the morning. Meantime, you have to stay in bed. “

 Bernie can feel irritation rising; the idea of this girl the age of her daughter giving her a bedbath is not something she finds acceptable. Before she has time to say anything harsh to Rowena, however, Serena reappears.

 “How’s it going, soldier?” she asks.

 “The fever has gone. I feel better and I need a shower,” says Bernie curtly.

 “But…” supplies Serena, sensing Bernie’s mood.

 “This young lady says I can’t get out of bed”.

 Serena turns to Rowena. “What about if I offer to help Dr. Wolfe have a shower?” she asks.

“I promise not to let her fall down”.

 “Ok, well if you take responsibility”, says Rowena, “I’ve been told not to let her out of bed yet.”

 Serena winks at Bernie. “Oh I think we can manage”, she says. “I’m a doctor, too, so I promise to call you if she needs anything, OK? Just leave us to it”.

 Rowena gives in and disappears.

 Serena puts her shopping bag down at the bedside and comes over to Bernie, pulling down the bedclothes.

 “D’you need a hand getting out? Or would you prefer I gave you a bedbath?” she asks flirtatiously

 Bernie glares at her. “I can walk to the bathroom myself”, she says, pulling the catheter needle out of her hand and freeing herself from the bedclothes.

 Serena lets her go into the ensuite alone and just says “call me if you need me”.

 A few minutes later, Bernie  opens the door and says “Serena. Could you…?”

 Serena goes into the bathroom and sees Bernie leaning painfully against the wall. Serena takes her weight and starts untying the gown. Bernie is silent, shaking off the gown impatiently and Serena manoeuvres her into the shower stall, reaching for the tap. She can’t avoid looking at Bernie’s naked body, the sight of her small but perfect breasts sends a sharp throb of desire to Serena’s core. Serena tries to ignore it as she twists the tap and adjusts the temperature, putting the shower head in Bernie’s hand and stepping back. With one hand on the wall, Bernie manages to soap and shower herself, and collapses back in Serena’s arms, a towel wrapped round herself. When they step back into the room, Serena sees a clean gown on the bed.

 “Here you are. Major”, she smiles, picking up the gown, but Bernie growls. “Where are my clothes?”

 Serena rummages in  her shopping bag and pulls out Bernie’s long T-shirt and a pair of her cotton underwear, returned from the hotel laundry.  “Outerwear tomorrow. OK?” and she rings for Rowena to come and change the bedding.

 Once she is dry and  between clean, cool sheets in her own clothes, Bernie relaxes a bit. She realizes she’s hungry, so Rowena is once again summoned to bring the room service menu. Serena says she’ll eat with her, so they order vegetable soup and scrambled eggs for Bernie, not to upset her stomach, and Pad Thai for Serena.

 “No Shiraz, I’m afraid,” jokes Bernie, spooning up her soup and smiling for the first time since she fell ill. "God, Serena, I'm sorry this has not been what you expected. What a waste of your 4 day break!".

"Not at all... of course, I wanted to spend time with you, not necessarily with a bunch of other doctors and nurses, but hey, we can't always have what we want", Serena says, smiling suggestively  at Bernie.

Bernie is looking down at her plate. "And once I'm out of here, I'll be back on a plane to Bangladesh", she says. 

"We'll see", is all Serena will say.

 By morning, Bernie is feeling more like herself having had a restful night, and with her temperature  back to normal. By the time Danny the Smile brings her morning tea, she is champing at the bit.

 “Calm down, Miss,” he smiles, “Doctor will be here soon”.

 She is about to make a rude retort but stops herself,  aware that he is only doing his job. When the day shift has taken over and Bernie is finishing her breakfast oatmeal, a head pokes round the door and a booming voice says “Knock Knock!”

 “Elliot, come in”.

 Elliot is his usual crumpled but cheerful self, having come straight from the airport and the overnight Thai Airways flight from Dhaka.

 “So how’s the Wolfe dealing with the dreaded dengue? “ he asks, lowering himself  into the chair next to the bed.

 “I’m fine, it’s over,” Bernie declares. “I’m good to fly tomorrow.”

 “Now don’t be too hasty my dear”, Elliot says. “You may feel tip-top right now sitting in bed, but believe me, dengue’s a vicious beast. I’ve signed you off for 2 weeks, can’t have you wielding an amputation saw with a shaky hand or collapsing into people’s open abdomens now, can we?”

 Bernie is frowning. “Elliot, I’m fine. Read my lips- F-I-N-E”.

 Elliot quirks his lips into a tight smile. “Right, my dear, let’s see you get out of this bed and do 2 laps of the corridor.”

 Bernie glares at him but throws back the bedclothes and hauls herself out. She pushes her feet into the slippers by the bed and stands up, walking confidently to the door. Elliot watches, a knowing expression on his face. Bernie throws open the door, nearly colliding with Dr. Chai who is on his way in.

 “What are you….?” he begins, but Elliot signals him to let Bernie go, and winks. Chai gets it, and stands, arms folded, watching her. Bernie makes it to the end of the corridor but as she turns to walk back, her legs give way and a bout of dizziness hits her. She slides down the wall and ends up sitting on the floor, a stunned look on her face.  Serena, who has just stepped out of the lift, drops her shopping bag and comes running, but Chai gets there first. The two of them get Bernie up on her feet and help her back to the room and into bed.

 “Bernie darling, what on earth were you doing?”  Serena asks.

 “That was my fault,” Elliot says. “Our No 1 Trauma Surgeon was trying to pass the Fitness For Work test”. He meets Serena’s gaze and shakes his head slightly.

 Bernie is clearly groggy but she gives Elliot  a furious look and sets her jaw. Chai clears his throat.

 “Well the good news is that Bernie has had over 12 hours with no recurrence of the fever, so provided all her tests come back clear today, I can release her into your care. Bernie, you’ll need to stay close to your bed for the next two to three days, no flying off anywhere, OK? After that, a week’s convalescence before returning to work.”

 Elliot raises his eyebrows. "There’s your 2 weeks sick leave”, he says.

 “But then there’s only 2 weeks left of my rotation”, she protests.

 “Can’t be helped, my dear. Now, if you want to discuss early release, we can talk about it. “

 Bernie looks dismayed. “Absolutely not”, she says. “And you said yourself that we can sign up for a second rotation”.

 “That’s why I’m here,” Elliot says. “There’s a reappraisal of the situation, given the huge numbers we’re experiencing, and MSF have called all regional managers here to discuss pooling resources and developing a longer term strategy. At the present time I can’t say for certain how that will affect our rotations.”

 "I’m going back,” insists Bernie. “Even if it’s only for 2 weeks”.

 “OK, Dr. Wolfe, point taken. Now you just need to work out what you’re going to do with your convalescence, and let me know when to rebook the flight for.”

 This stops Bernie in her tracks. She hasn’t thought about life beyond the hospital and her job in Bangladesh.

Chai coughs discreetly, "Might I suggest one of our beautiful Thai beaches?"

Bernie  looks over at Serena who has the ghost of  a smile on her lips. "I think we might be able to go one better", she says.

 


	8. Not Even Love Could Bring You To Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena finally gets Bernie to Saigon, but her plan to make her stay doesn't quite go as it should.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning that the first part of this chapter is definitely NSFW. After that it gets a little dark. I've been struggling with this lately, but now we're on the way to a resolution of sorts. 
> 
> Title is from Level 42, "Leaving Me Now"
> 
> You turn the page and you walk away,  
> Not even love could bring you to stay, this time.

  **SERENA**

It’s a very long walk from one end of Suvarnabhumi airport to the other, and Serena sets a sedate pace, not wanting to overtire Bernie. Serena is bubbling over with joy inside- they are on their way to Ho Chi Minh City, where Bernie will spend a week convalescing before going back to Bangladesh. Serena secretly hopes she will accept the early contract termination mentioned by Elliot, but decides to wait and see.

 Bernie is looking amazing- she was delighted, if somewhat taken aback, by the new clothes Serena bought her and today is wearing the light sand coloured leggings with a skimpy black vest top and the new black short-sleeved shirt left open. Bernie’s hair is gleaming again, tied back for travelling, exposing a tantalising expanse of neck. Her sunglasses are pushed up, she looks confident, elegant and absolutely ravishing. Serena gets these little quivers of pure desire and pride every time she looks at her, and keeps sneaking glances, as if to reassure herself that Bernie is really there and not just a phantom.

 Since she came out of hospital on Monday afternoon, they have spent one night in the hotel, then Chai and Quyen had insisted they spend another two nights with them in their house on the outskirts of Bangkok, an experience made all the more delightful by the couple’s 13 year old daughter, Polly, who reminded Serena not a little of Jason, with her endless questions and passion for detail.

 The only shadow on Serena’s new-found happiness is that Bernie is not as responsive to her as in their previous life. Although on the surface she is as kind and as amusing as ever, the flirtatious edge they once enjoyed so much seems to be missing from their relationship. Serena can’t tell whether this is related to Bernie’s recent illness or whether it is more symptomatic of the anguish she experienced in Holby, and the darkness she found in Bangladesh. Either way, Serena is afraid of pushing Bernie too far, and their nights, though warm and affectionate, have so far not ventured beyond kissing and spooning. It’s as if Bernie has forgotten their passionate encounter when she first arrived in Bangkok, the memory of which still makes Serena squirm every time she thinks of it. Lying in the darkness, Serena has flashbacks to when she was in the first throes of grieving for Elinor, when she would lie awake next to Bernie, wishing that Bernie would make love to her, to drive the demons away if only temporarily; then she felt as if she had become ugly to Bernie-her constant crying jags, her drinking, her ranting at others- Serene feels nothing more than total shame at these recollections now, and part of her is afraid that she may have damaged their relationship forever. She determines to try everything in her power to bring the old Bernie back to her.

 Pilou is waiting in Arrivals at Tan Son Nhat Airport, and Serena rushes to hug him, and introduce him to Bernie.

 “This is a great honour” beams Pilou , taking Bernie’s rucksack onto his shoulder and grabbing Serena’s trolley as he leads them across the road to the car park, where Tien is waiting in his black Toyota SUV. Bernie says little on the journey, looking out of the window with curiosity at all the people crammed onto the pavements, selling a variety of food, cooking over braziers, mending things- all of life is on the street, or so it seems. She looks at the ladies in their brightly coloured pyjamas and conical hats balancing heavy baskets suspended on a pole across their shoulders, noting their laboured gait, doubtless calculating exactly the damage this does to the spine over time. Pilou talks nineteen to the dozen in two languages. In chats with Serena while she was in Bangkok, he is the one who took charge of all the travel and accommodation arrangements.

 “No need to bother Véro and Nick, you can have Tien’s apartment,”, Pilou had said. “He spends all his time with me, but his parents bought him this apartment a while back and he’s hardly ever there. It’s yours, no problem, for as long as you like”.

 The apartment turns out to be a modern, fully furnished two bedroom flat on the 12thfloor of a block with a spectacular view to the river and the downtown in the distance. Serena is impressed. Tien hands over the keys and goes to the wardrobe to move his few clothes out and leave them space, showing them where the sheets and towels are stored. When Bernie and Serena are finally alone, Bernie flops on the couch.

 “How about a rest?” suggests Serena, not entirely innocently, “before we go to Véro and Nick’s for dinner?”

 “I quite fancy a swim”, Bernie says, having seen the fifth floor pool when Pilou showed them around earlier. She gets up and fishes a one piece swimsuit from her rucksack and hunts for a pair of goggles. Serena doesn’t much feel like swimming, but the sky is blue for once with no sign of rain, and the image of Bernie in a swimsuit has her racing to grab towels and find her own swimsuit. The pool is deserted at this hour of the afternoon. They put their things on adjoining recliners then Bernie pulls off her cotton shift in a single swift movement, and Serena feels her breath catch in her throat. The sporty navy swimsuit, intended to be modest by covering her chest and torso, is actually more revealing than if Bernie were naked. Serena gulps as she takes in the length of Bernie’s legs, right up to the high cut sides. The sheer material hugs every curve and Serena can clearly see her nipples through the fabric. Suppressing a groan, Serena lets her eyes wander as Bernie ties her hair back and pulls on her goggles.

 “Come on, Campbell, get that dress off”, she says, giving Serena an eyeful of her perfect backside as she walks to the side of the pool and drops down easily into the water.

 Serena needs no further encouragement but by the time she hits the water, Bernie is streaking towards the far end doing a languorous crawl. Serena follows doing breast stroke and trying not to get her hair wet, until suddenly Bernie pops up beside her and splashes her. “Forget the vanity, Campbell”, she says, and Serena laughs as they set off together, swimming steadily to the other end of the pool.

 Bernie’s burst of energy fades after about ten minutes of swimming, and she points to the adjoining jacuzzi, striking out towards it with a fast crawl. By the time Serena makes it over there, the pumps are switched on, and Bernie is reclining against the edge. Serena joins her and they enjoy the feeling of the water massaging their backs and necks. Serena lies back, her head resting on the edge, hands on the shelf below, getting her lower back into position on the jets. The sun is strong and hot, there are palm trees round the edge of the pool, she can hear birds chirping, and the traffic is but a distant hum.

 “This is the life”, says Serena happily, pushing her chest up higher to feel more pressure on her spine.  Bernie doesn’t answer, so Serena opens her eyes. Bernie is looking at her chest, and Serena is suddenly aware that her swimsuit has pushed her breasts up so that they are threatening to escape, and her nipples are erect and visible through the fabric. She doesn’t move but looks candidly at Bernie, whose eyes are now black with undisguised lust. A moment later, she feels Bernie’s foot travelling up the inside of her thigh, and a jolt of desire hits her.

 “Stop that, Major”, she says in a low voice, aware that they could be observed by any of the residents looking out of their windows, “or I won’t be answerable for the consequences.”

 Bernie just lets the tip of her toe brush Serena’s sex, then she drops her foot and says huskily “race you to the shower”.

 Serena gasps, but before she can react, Bernie has hustled them back up to the apartment and has Serena against the wall in the shower stall, her nimble fingers tugging impatiently at Serena’s swimsuit.  In seconds, Bernie has the top half pulled down and she is moaning as she worships Serena’s breasts, squeezing, sucking, rubbing her face over the nipples as Serena writhes against her and against the wall, the previous stab of desire having become a flood.

 “Please, Bernie”, she implores, bucking her pelvis against Bernie’s hip.

 “Tell me, Serena” growls Bernie, sliding a slim thigh between Serena’s, feeling her grind down as Bernie continues licking, sucking and nipping Serena’s breasts.

 “Don’t tease”, Serena whispers, reaching for Bernie’s hand and pushing it between their bodies so that her fingers slide under the edge of her swimsuit and find her slippery with more than just water. She hears a sharp intake of breath from Bernie, then the fingers disappear and Bernie’s hands are pulling the swimsuit right off and down her legs. In seconds she is back, claiming Serena’s mouth and sliding her fingers back inside, setting up a rhythm that Serena knows she is helpless to resist. Bernie only has to crook her fingers and slide her thumb over Serena’s clit a few times and Serena is there, panting, feeling the orgasm hit her like a train, clenching around Bernie’s fingers as Bernie slows and waits for her to come down, holding Serena up with her left arm.

 Still cushioned on Bernie’s shoulder, Serena reaches for the tap and turns on the shower, turning to kiss Bernie deeply as the warm water streams over them. Her hands are pushing down Bernie’s swimsuit until they are both naked, then she breaks the kiss and reaches for the shower soap.

 “Extremely delayed gratification”, she murmurs and she runs her soapy hands all over Bernie’s body, flipping her around so that their positions are reversed.

 

**BERNIE**

Serena was right about Saigon, thinks Bernie, as they make their way to the hospital the next morning. The evening had been relaxing and very pleasant- Nick and Véro had prepared a backyard barbecue, inviting Pilou and Tien as well. Bernie found herself to be the centre of attention, not something she normally enjoyed, but, super- relaxed after their shower antics, she was at her most  open and friendly. Most of the questions seemed to be about how long she would be staying in Saigon - “You can’t blame us”, Véro said, “it’s not often we get such a big medical celebrity passing through!” Bernie blushed, “celebrity” not being a word she would ever apply to herself. She gave non-committal but sincere answers- she was here to convalesce and spend time with Serena, she had a job to get back to, and yes, she would love to see their hospital.

 Bernie stuck to sparkling water all evening, making sure her liver recovered from the dengue properly, but she noted that Serena had more than her fair share of Aussie Shiraz before being poured into a taxi.

 This morning, Serena is trying not to show she is bleary-eyed while Bernie feels more on top of things. Serena has two electives today, one postponed from earlier in the week while she tended Bernie in Bangkok. Bernie has offered to help, but Serena is determined to let Pilou lead on the first, and Tien on the second.

 “You can observe”, she says. Bernie looks at her incredulously and says nothing. It’s clear, however, that halfway through the first operation, the degree of complexity is greater than they had imagined, and Pilou asks for a break while they get more help. This results in Bernie being triumphantly approved for surgery and scrubbed in. Together, she and Pilou find and fix the problem while Serena looks on, observing the instant professional chemistry between them and not a little jealous. Bernie is clearly recovered from her illness, her mood is good, eyes sparkling and she is in her element.

 As they head for the staff room and a coffee break, Bernie says “That was fun! I haven’t had a pseudo-aneurysm of the splenic artery since Holby!”

 Serena has offered to work over the weekend to make up for her absence the previous week, and Bernie happily tags along, offering her services if required. During one of Serena’s easier electives with Tien, Pilou gives Bernie a tour of the Trauma Unit. She grasps the problem immediately, and offers to help by starting trauma training with the nurses.

 “Of course, I’ll be gone by next week, but I’ll leave you my notes. I saved all my Trauma prep stuff to a cloud when I left Holby so I can access it for you.” (Actually, it was Cameron who set up the secure cloud account for her and showed her how to use it, but she doesn’t think that worth mentioning). Pilou is impressed.

 “Is there any way we could get you for a little longer?” he tries.

 “Ha, well that’s really up to MSF, I can’t say much until I’ve gone back and talked to my boss”. she says, so Pilou backs off.

 Bernie enthusiastically sets up the training programme with Pilou shadowing her. Then, on Monday, three days before she is due to head back to Bangladesh, a motorcycle accident victim is brought in, and as the trauma response team on duty, she and Pilou are paged to attend immediately.

 Bernie can see at once that the damage is bad- one leg is mangled where it was run over by a car, and there are obvious internal injuries. Bernie takes over, assigning Pilou to the internal injuries and calling for Serena to help her try to save the leg. It takes them five hours but they save the man’s life. Bernie and Serena perform a miracle on his leg, which would almost certainly have been amputated without further ado by the Vietnamese surgeons, and Pilou is able to stabilise him internally until Bernie can help him repair the liver damage.

 As Pilou closes up, Bernie and Serena scrub out, exhausted but exhilarated, and Serena says “God, I’ve so missed having you around!”

 “And I’ve missed being around you”, replies Bernie, giving her the sweetest smile as they head to the locker room to change.

 “Do you think there is any possibility we might be able to live and work together again soon?” Serena asks.

 Bernie doesn’t have to search too hard for the right answer. “I hope so”, she says, pulling her T-shirt over her head, seeing Serena’s reaction out of the corner of her eye-  a little stunned, a little sad.

 Later, over dinner, Serena seems to be in low spirits, so Bernie tries to cheer her up. “It’s not forever, Serena. And we have three more nights to spend making up for all that lost time”, she takes Serena’s hand. Serena is silent.

 Bernie is unsure whether Serena is sad because she’s leaving in three days or upset because Bernie used the words Serena herself used when she left for her sabbatical. She knows she can never explain how deeply she was hurt by Serena during her grieving period, doesn’t want to dig all that up, but she has promised herself that she will give herself time to work her way back to Serena, and to trust her again with her unconditional love. As she rubs Serena’s knuckles, she tries to communicate that to her silently.

 Serena’s phone beeps with an incoming message.

 “What’s that?” asks Bernie.

 “Oh, Pilou complimenting us on our work”, she says, keeping the screen tilted away from Bernie.

 “Well he’s pretty amazing, too- did you see how he found that tiny tear in the liver? I haven’t had many registrars as nimble as that”, she says.

“Hmm, he’s good”, replies Serena.

 

  **SERENA**

_Serena, Bernie is AMAZING! Please try to stop her from going back to MSF. I’m asking Véro to draw up a contract for Trauma lead that we can offer her this week. Use your powers of seduction to keep her here!_

Serena doesn’t show Bernie Pilou’s message but her mind goes into overdrive. What if they could prevent Bernie from leaving by offering her something she can’t resist? Then they could settle down happily in Saigon for maybe a year, become a real couple again. Serena realises that, as well as doing Véro, Pilou and the hospital a huge favour, this would be the icing on her own personal cake.  She has enjoyed travelling, she has especially enjoyed being away from Holby, but she has hated every second of being away from Berenice Wolfe. Only her fear of her own behaviour kept Serena away from Bernie. And it was not until she had left her that she realised how much of a rock Bernie had been for her in the darkest hours of her life.

 Later that evening, as they relax on the sofa, Serena asks, “When’s your flight on Thursday?”

 “Um..10.30 am  to Bangkok, then 3.45 pm  to Dhaka. Elliot wants me to go to Head Office to meet him before I go back to Cox’s Bazar.”

 “Have you given any thought to what you might do when this rotation finishes?”

 Bernie grins, “Why do I have a feeling you might have a vested interest in that answer, Ms Campbell?”

 “Because, Ms Wolfe, I obviously do. Not just because you’re totally irresistible and I can’t bear not to have you in my life, but I think CMF would happily offer both of us a contract for at least a year. You DO like it here, don't you?”

 “I do, and it would be a fantastic opportunity to set up a Trauma Centre from scratch. But I have commitments first.”

 “Didn’t Elliot say something about early termination?”

 Bernie becomes agitated, “He mentioned it in passing but I told him there was no question. I finish what I started. I can’t let Frieda and my colleagues down any longer.”

 Serena says nothing, but strokes Bernie’s face and neck until her fingers touch the top of her bra. Bernie puts her hand over Serena’s. “Bedtime?”

 “Absolutely!”

 Bernie gets up and takes Serena’s hand pulling towards the bedroom. “What would you say to a nice relaxing bath, hmmm?”

 “Lead on, Major”, smiles Serena, pulling off her camisole, a determined smile on her face.

 The following morning, Serena leaves Bernie downtown to wander round and buy some souvenirs while she pops into the clinic. Véro is waiting for her.

“Here’s the contract” she says. “Consultant Trauma Surgeon and Director of the Trauma Centre. Tell me what you think”.

 Serena runs her eye down the page. The salary is eye-popping for someone used to the NHS, but Serena knows that alone would not sway Bernie. Everything else seems well thought-out- the list of responsibilities is long, but Bernie is well up to the task. She nods.

 “I was thinking- the date- do we ask her to sign immediately?”

 “That’s going to be problematic. She has it in her head that she’s going back to Bangladesh for at least 2 weeks.”

 “Is there anything we can do to change that?”

 “I’m not sure”, says Serena, thinking aloud. “Elliot, her line manager, suggested early termination when we saw him last week. He said they were reviewing all the contracts and changing the rotations, so he was prepared to let her go as she had already missed two weeks”.

 “Could we call him, tell him we want to keep her and persuade him to make that decision before she leaves?”

 Serena is uneasy. “I think Bernie needs to make that decision for herself. She’s never considered early termination.”

 “Can’t you just call him to assess the state of play?”

 Serena hesitates. This feels like a betrayal of Bernie, but at the same time, she can see how, if Elliot’s mind is made up, it would save them all the uncertainty. Surely, if Bernie knows she has no obligation to return, it would make everything easier?

 “Maybe if you called him? Just say you’re thinking of offering her a job when her current contract expires, ask for a reference, that sort of thing, and ask whether there’s any possibility of early termination. Then it would sound more professional. From me it looks personal”.

 “OK, give me his number”.

 Serena spends the rest of the day feeling very uneasy, but she keeps it to herself. At lunchtime, while they prepare to go back to the hospital, Serena checks her email and sees a note from Véro.

 “Elliot is receptive to the idea of early termination. He agrees that we have more to offer Bernie than they do, in Trauma terms. He says their new strategy won’t necessarily be what Bernie wants, so he is willing to let her have this opportunity. I’m asking her to a meeting at the hospital this afternoon to offer her the contract. Hopefully, she’ll check with him and all will be well.”

 Bernie comes back from the bathroom and picks up her phone, which beeps with an incoming message. She reads it then says “Véro wants a meeting with me this afternoon. Do you have any idea what it could be about?”

 “I think they want to make you a job offer”, says Serena.

 They don’t discuss it any further, but later in the afternoon, when Bernie comes out of the meeting she is looking pensive.  Serena looks up from the nurse’s station where she is reading a file.

 “Was I right?”

 Bernie extends the contract towards her and she takes it and flips through. “Is there a problem?” she says.

 “I’m not sure. It’s a great offer, but I feel like they’re ambushing me, they want me to start immediately.”

 "Didn’t Elliot say, in Bangkok…?”

 “That’s not the point”, bursts out Bernie. “I owe it to my colleagues to go back and finish my rotation. I have never asked for early release, and I don’t want it on my record that I gave up half way through”.

 “Darling”, says Serena, exasperated, “you had bloody _dengue fever_. No one could characterise that as giving up halfway through.”

 “I had two weeks’ sick leave”, says Bernie firmly. “And I still owe them two weeks work. They are one team member down until the end of this rotation, when new people will be coming in, no doubt, but right now I’m part of a team and I have a duty to them”.

 “Why not just call Elliot and put him in the picture?” asks Serena.

 “Because I’ll see him on Thursday in Dhaka, then, if the hospital agrees to wait for me, I’ll talk to him when I arrive about finishing at the end of my rotation”.

 Serena doesn’t know what to say. She knows that if Bernie goes back to Dhaka without first talking to Elliot, he will certainly reveal that he had a conversation with Véro before they offered her the job. Bernie will know immediately that she gave Elliot’s number to Véro, and  will be furious that they went behind her back. Serena is deeply conflicted. She doesn’t know whether to tell Bernie herself, come clean, and risk her anger, or lie low, say nothing and hope it doesn’t come to that. Or assume ignorance. She can see that none of these options is likely to result in a happy ending.

 On Wednesday morning, Bernie confirms to Véro that she cannot accept the offer until her current commitment is complete.

 “She was adamant that she didn’t want us to call Elliot to ask for an early termination”, Véro says wryly to Serena in the staff room, while Bernie is doing a last training session with the trauma nurses.

 “Shit”, says Serena, anxiety taking hold of her.

 Serena’s worst fears are realised when Bernie comes out of her training session glowering at her phone.

 “I’ve just had an email from Elliot”, she says, “asking me whether I’m going to take the option of early termination or not. I thought that was all agreed,” and before Serena can stop her or make a move, she is walking away, stabbing at the buttons on her phone.

 When she comes back her face is set in Major Wolfe mode and her voice is icy cold.

 “What on earth possessed you, Serena Campbell, to go behind my back and try to manipulate Elliot into releasing me?”

 “Darling, I…” Serena, usually never short of words, is struggling, and she makes a fatal mistake. “It wasn’t me.”

 Bernie looks at her as if she cannot believe her ears.  “Oh, and who would have given Véro Elliot’s private mobile number if not you? Because I happen to know that it is not available to anyone except his close colleagues. And you got it from my phone when I was sick.”

 Serena’s eyes fill with tears and she stammers “It wasn’t like that…I…”

 “Because, you know what, Serena Campbell? While I can see you trying to manipulate a situation to your advantage, I never had you down as a liar who would try to pin it on someone else. Shows how wrong I was, doesn’t it?”

 The Major’s words could slice through steel  and Serena is totally horrified at how badly she has managed this and desperate not to let Bernie think it was pre-planned.   “Please, Bernie, listen to me, just calm down for a moment”, she pleads with her partner. “Sit down and let me explain”.

 Bernie remains standing, tapping her foot, her face showing her anger and disappointment.  “Make it good”, she says curtly.

Serena gets to her feet and comes to face her. “Bernie, please believe me, I had no intention of getting involved in this. When I gave them Elliot’s number, the idea was to ask for a reference and to let him know they were interested and to try to find out what their plans were for you after the rotation. I didn’t tell them to request an early termination. It was only later that I found out that they had done this.”

 “And it didn’t occur to you that they would, of course, do this?  because, God knows, every day I’ve been here, they’ve made it clear that they need someone immediately.” She is incredulous.

 Serena hangs her head, filled with misery. Then Bernie drops her voice and says “and of course, that fitted your agenda perfectly, didn’t it?”

 “What do you mean?” Serena is taken aback at the venom in her partner’s voice.

 “Ever since I came to meet you in Bangkok you’ve acted as if you think my work and my life were just on hold, waiting for you. Well, let me make a few things clear- YOU left me in Holby, YOU went travelling for months on end, hardly communicating, never asking me about my life. I accepted that, you needed to get over your grief. And I admit my life was pretty shitty for a long time, but gradually, I pulled myself together and I learned to live without you. When I came to see you it was for a break, just to reconnect.  I had built a life of my own- in England, with my children, with our former colleagues, even with your nephew, for God’s sake, and now I have another one in Bangladesh with Elliot, Frieda and our colleagues there. What happens next is my decision and mine alone. I was thinking seriously of taking this job when I finish the MSF thing, but now it looks as though you’ve just sabotaged any future you thought we might have. I can’t trust someone who thinks they own me.”

 Serena stands, unable to respond, tears pouring down her cheeks as Bernie turns and walks stiffly away. She is still standing there, sobbing, when Bernie returns in her street clothes, her bag over her arm. She stops in front of Serena.

 “I’m going back to pack and I’ll spend tonight in a hotel. Tomorrow I’m returning to Bangladesh. Then I’ll see.” She pauses, then adds quietly, “I love you, Serena, but as you yourself once so eloquently pointed out, that’s not enough by itself. I’m sorry”.

Serena is incapable of speech. She knows there is no way she can beg Bernie to stay, as she did when Bernie went to Kiev. And the worst thing is, she recognises the truth in what Bernie is saying. That’s what really hurts. Because deep down, she did try to do everything to keep Bernie with her. Bernie has read this as a form of control, but all Serena can think is that she is losing the love of her life, and that somewhere back in the dark past that separates them, she set all this in motion herself.

 She stands and watches Bernie walk out of the front door of the hospital and get in a cab without a backward glance.  

 


	9. Behind The Scenes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena bitterly regrets letting the hospital call Elliot; She tries to find a way to salvage the situation. Bernie has departed but is conflicted about her choices. Frieda tries to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I thought this story would wrap itself up but it seems to want to take a longer stroll. Ever since the episode of Holby where Frieda is boxing with Sacha and the one where Frieda and Jac are teasing Fletch about teenage daughters, I'm totally in love with Frieda Petrenko. Couldn't resist giving her a bigger role -and imagining her in those skimpy workout clothes!

  **Serena**

On Thursday morning, Serena sits in Véro’s office at the downtown clinic. Despite being as impeccably groomed as ever, her eyes are red and raw and she is clutching a pack of tissues.

 “Why didn't you tell me this yesterday? I could have stopped her”, Véro says.

 “Because this is not about you or the hospital; it’s about me. Me putting my needs before hers,” Serena states baldly.

 “Where is she now?”

 Serena looks at her watch. “Somewhere over Cambodia, I imagine”.

 “I can’t believe you just let her go like that”, Véro says sadly. “Surely she would have cooled off a bit later on. You could have called her”.

 Serena doesn’t answer immediately, she is weighing her options. Should she confide in Véro, a cousin she barely knows?  Then she thinks that it’s Véro’s business now, too, because if the hospital employs Serena, they probably won’t be able to get Bernie, and Bernie is the star, the one they really need, not her. And she has scuppered their chances. She chooses to focus on the practicalities of the situation.

 “I think at this stage we have to let her go back to Bangladesh. But that doesn't mean forever. Look, Véro, this is my fault, no-“  as Véro begins to protest- “I gave you that number. It was wrong of me. I should have made you wait for her to answer in her own time, not try to hustle things along.”

 Véro looks at her expectantly. “So what now?”

 “Look, without going into too much detail, there are personal issues between us that this played into. Again,  _mea culpa._ It may take some time to put right. So what I suggest is that we try to work around the hospital hiring her as Trauma lead, and me not being on the scene at all.”

 "What do you mean? You’ll leave Saigon?” asks Véro, looking worried.

 “That may be the best option”, Serena says, looking down.

 Véro is alarmed- to lose her potential  ace trauma surgeon is bad enough, but then to lose a cousin she has just come to know and love, and who all the hospital staff also love and respect is beyond appalling.

 “Serena- don’t do a thing. Look, I’m just doing the HR for the new hospital, but now we have to get the CEO involved.”

 “Didn’t they sign off on Bernie’s contract?”

 “She did, conditionally. That’s the deal. We do the hires, but she gets final approval. If Bernie wants to accept the position, she needs to send in her CV, references, qualifications etc. before the final contract can be issued. What I gave her was really just a pro-forma because I didn’t want to lose her. I thought the red tape could come later.”

 “I see. And who is this CEO?”

 “A very distinguished Professor of Medical Science from one of the top French universities. They had to have someone of that rank and standing because the Vietnamese authorities insist. But she’s actually quite nice, and she has good management skills. I can go and talk to her.”

 “What do you think she can do?”

 “I think me being your cousin isn’t helping the hospital in this case. I need to de-escalate the whole thing- you know, Bernie thinking this is some kind of plot to get her here for you- and make a totally professional approach to her from someone quite unrelated to you or I”.

 Serena nods thoughtfully.

 “So don’t make plans, keep working at the hospital until we have a clearer idea of what Bernie will do”.

 Serena is about to take a taxi back to the second district, where the hospital is located, when her grief and frustration and remorse at the whole situation overcome her. She stumbles into a Coffee Bean, orders a triple shot skinny latte and logs onto their wifi. She opens WhatsApp. No new chats. Bernie has really gone. She can feel tears welling up again, this huge ball of grief in her chest that keeps leaking out. Wiping her hand over her eyes, she starts typing.

  _Bernie darling, I have no words to express how sorry I am for what happened yesterday. I want to be clear from the start that this was entirely my fault. I know you think I was trying to manipulate the situation, but it wasn’t supposed to happen like that. Please don’t blame Véro or the hospital – they just wanted to recruit an excellent Trauma surgeon. I don’t want to stand in the way of you being offered that job, or to influence in any way what you decide to do next. I just want you to know that if you do decide to come back to Saigon, you do so on your own terms. I won’t be involved in any part of it, and you won’t have to work alongside me. I love you very, very much, but I screwed up, I know I deserve this. Take care, my darling and be safe. xxx_

Sobbing quietly, Serena presses “send” and her words fly off into cyberspace. Hopefully, Bernie will read the message when she arrives in Bangkok. Finishing her coffee, Serena then waves down a cab and heads back over the river. She hesitates a little before calling Elliot, but it has to be done. The conversation is short and the message understood.

 

**Bernie**

Dhaka is wet and steamy, the traffic gridlocked. Bernie fidgets in her seat as the taxi honks its way with painful slowness through the impossible mass of homeward bound commuters. Bernie looks at her watch- she needs to get to the MSF office by 6.30 pm  if she wants to connect with Elliot. It’s now 6.10 and it seems she’s stuck. Suddenly her phone rings.

 “Is that the Wolfe?”

 “Hi, Elliot,” she says.

 “I imagine you’re stuck in the rush hour traffic? I’m looking out of the window, it’s horrendous.”

 “Yes, I could be another half hour getting there”.

 “Never mind. Look, Bernie, I’ve had a long day, I’m on my way back to the hotel. Why don’t you head there, too? It’s the Pullman, I booked you a room, and you’re on the 9am flight down to CB in the morning”.

 “OK, is that nearer the airport than the office?”

 “Yes, much nearer. I’ll see you in the bar, OK?”

 When Bernie arrives, Elliot is well into his Martini and has read his journal article twice. He smiles at her flustered appearance as she rushes in, dropping her rucksack at her feet.

 “Hey, let me get you a whisky…?”

 “Just a lime soda, please. I’m staying off the booze for a while longer”.

 “Probably wise”.

 He relays the order to the barman and turns back to Bernie.

 “Well, you look amazing for someone who’s been to hell and back”.

 “It’s the indestructible Wolfe genes”, she laughs.

 “And even getting in some trauma surgery practice in Saigon, I hear”, he smiles admiringly at her.

 Her face falls a little. “About that…” she starts, but he raises his hand.

 “OK, OK I know the story. They got a little over-anxious and tried to abduct you. Well, I don’t blame them. Anyone would want to abduct you!”

 “Ha, well it’s a tad more complicated than that”, she sips her drink, uncertain of how to proceed.

 “Personal stuff, you and the lovely Serena?” he asks. She doesn’t know what he knows about her relationship with Serena, but she guesses Jac has filled him in.

 “Something like that. But in any case, I’m here and I’ll finish my rotation, then we’ll see what else is on offer”.

 Elliot observes her for a moment, then he says with studied casualness “The whole policy here is going to change. This was decided in Bangkok. All new contracts will be minimum six months. The situation is getting even more serious than we feared – well, you’ve read the news- and the biggest need is for obs and gynae, paediatrics and internal medicine, plus Psych and social support. Trauma is no longer a category by itself, it’s been subsumed into general surgery. As you know yourself, by the time most people reach us, the real trauma cases will have died. I don’t think your trauma skills would be put to best use if you stayed on”.

 “Hmm”, she says.

 “Then there’s the psychological factor”.

 She raises her eyebrows.

 “I mean, look, six months working with these cases is enough to send the toughest person into a major depression. I imagine we’ll get some pretty serious burnout along the way.”

 “Is that your way of saying I can’t cope with it?” she asks.

 “Not at all, my dear. It’s my way of saying you don’t need to cope with it. An offer like that one in Saigon is a much better gig for someone of your talents. I hear you performed some kind of miracle, you and Serena, the other day, on some poor bloke’s leg.”

 “How did you hear about that?”

 He rubs his nose “I have my sources”.

 Bernie is silent for a while, Clearly, more has been going on behind her back than she was aware of. Feeling irritated, she says “OK, well, thanks for the heads up. I think I’m going to crash. Early start and all that”, and she goes to grab her rucksack.

 “A little piece of information that might be of use to you,” says Elliot, swinging round on his barstool to face her.

 “The CEO of that French hospital, Professor Marie-Paule Richard, is an old buddy of Henrik Hanssen’s.”

 Bernie makes her way to her room, and strips off her sweaty clothes, getting into the shower. As she soaps herself, she thinks of the possible meaning of Elliot’s piece of information. Then she thinks about Serena and a wave of sadness overcomes her. She dries off and gets into bed, picking up her phone to set the alarm. She opens Serena’s message for what must be the fourth time.

  _I just want you to know that if you do decide to come back to Saigon, you do so on your own terms. I won’t be involved in any part of it, and you won’t have to work alongside me. I love you very, very much, but I screwed up, I know I deserve this…………………._

Bernie is deeply conflicted. Serena’s tone is contrite, there’s a hint that she is beginning to understand the new Bernie, the one whose spirit is battling to rise from the ashes of her past. The old Bernie wants nothing more than to tell Serena she loves her to pieces and to rush back to Saigon, but she made a decision to teach Serena a lesson, and now it has to play out. Bernie switches off the light. Tomorrow is another day.

 Her flight lands in Cox’s Bazar just after 10am and Elliot has sent a driver to collect her. The morning is sunny and bright, much like the day she first arrived. If you looked at the deep blue sky, and the bright turquoise of the Bay of Bengal with its long, sparkling beach and the rich green of the foliage, thinks Bernie, you could  never imagine that just a few kilometres away existed such extremes of human misery. She feels a sort of dread come over her as they approach the tented encampment of Kutupalong, something she never ever felt with the RAMC, no matter how challenging the circumstances.

 The next few days are busy and during her shifts Bernie has no time to think about Serena or anything much at all, although Serena haunts her nights, and the recent resumption of sexual activity after a long drought has her on edge -flashbacks of pushing Serena against the wall of the shower room, of her breasts in the swimsuit, come to her whenever her focus switches from her patients and the work environment. She finds she is sleeping fitfully, with vivid, often erotic dreams which usually end with her applying her expert surgeon’s fingers to the problem area. It hasn’t escaped Frieda’s notice that Bernie is not herself since she came back from Vietnam. On Sunday, they have a free morning and part of the afternoon, so Frieda suggests going to the beach and having lunch in one of the restaurants there. Bernie agrees, needing to escape the confines of the camp and breathe some fresh air.

 The rains mostly come in the afternoon and evening, leaving the mornings fresh and cool. Sunday is no exception. The beach at Cox’s Bazar is long and the sand firm, the tide out, and they are wearing shorts and vests under their long sleeved tunics and cotton trousers, and they carry small daypacks. The section of beach they have chosen is still deserted.  They set an easy target of 1 km down the beach and 1km back jogging  companiably. Frieda is 15 years Bernie’s junior and very fit from boxing and yoga. She is wiry and strong, but not really a distance runner. Bernie, on the other hand, has run half marathons, and running was always her escape valve, so the distance is no challenge to her although her body warns her that the recent bout of fever has weakened her muscles, and she struggles on the home leg to maintain her speed. They collapse on the sand afterwards, panting.

 “Wow, that I needed that”, says Bernie, swigging from her water bottle.

 “You don’t seem to be happy, like a person in love who has just spent two weeks with her partner”, observes Frieda, propping herself up on an elbow to look at Bernie.

 “Well, five or six days with Mr. Dengue didn’t help”, replies Bernie tartly.

 “You know what I mean.” Frieda waits. She has learned that Bernie will only open up when she wants to, so she gives her the space.

“I really like Saigon”, says Bernie.

 “I’ve never been. What’s it like?”

 “Well, you’ve been to Bangkok and Dhaka so you can imagine a large Asian city. Sure, the traffic is heavy, there’s the usual pollution, but there’s a kind of buzz to it. Lots of parks and green spaces, great cafes and restaurants. No obvious sexual harassment- a relief after Bangladesh, I can tell you, a very laid back sort of ambiance. Nice people, very culturally mixed.”

 “And how’s Serena?”

 Bernie chuckles “Oh she’s in her element. Her cousin is head of the medical service at a French clinic and they’re just setting up a new hospital, so Serena has got herself a job there. Bit of admin at the clinic, lots of surgery. Has all the doctors and nurses drooling over her.”

 “I bet”, says Frieda, smiling. “And what about you? How did you fit into that?”

 “I did a few procedures. They’re setting up a Trauma Unit but their Trauma lead reneged on his promise and they’re looking for a replacement”.

 “And enters one Bernie Wolfe! Bernie, that’s fantastic, it’s exactly what you did at Holby. Do they have any spaces for CT specialists?”, she grins.

 “What? Tired of amputating gangrenous limbs are we, Ms Petrenko?”

 “No, just sick of seeing what these Rohingya women have to suffer”, she says sadly. “I’ve kind of gone off men. Not that I was ever all that enamoured, you understand, but now the thought of sex makes me want to throw up”.

 “Come on, not all men are like that. Elliot’s a good man, for example”.

 “Elliot’s a decent, civilised human being, that’s true. But hey, what’s this, Ms Later-In-Life Lesbian defending men?”

 Bernie flushes. “My sexual preferences have nothing to do with what I think of men generally. And being with a woman isn’t always plain sailing either.”

 “Oh no, don’t tell me Serena’s got herself a toy boy- or toy girl”, Frieda says sarcastically.

 “Maybe that would be better”, mutters Bernie. Frieda waits.

 “We parted on bad terms”, Bernie confesses. “The hospital offered me a job, but I made it clear I needed to finish this one first. Serena gave her cousin Elliot’s number and they called him to try to persuade him to terminate my post early.”

 “Really? Serena did that? Why couldn’t they just wait another couple of weeks?”.

 “Serena just decided that was what she wanted, so they didn’t consider me at all, just went to Elliot behind my back”.

 “And Elliot? What did he say?”  Frieda is getting a feeling there’s more to this than meets the eye.

 “He said he would let me go if they really wanted me.”

 “Wow! So why come back? Job of a lifetime, and permission to leave your current post…?”

 “Because the decision was mine. And I had committed to MSF until the end of this rotation.”

 Frieda thinks for a moment.

 “Are you really? Committed, I mean? This has been a tough posting for both of us. I admit I’m struggling, and before you left I could see it was getting to you, too.”

 Bernie opens her mouth to protest, but then the truth hits her. She had been desperate to escape to Bangkok, just to get out of the overwhelming misery that surrounded her. The climate was a challenge, it was true, but Bernie had endured inhospitable climates and challenging environments for most of her working life. No, it was the human suffering on such a massive scale that pulled her down and made her feel that she could never fully enjoy her freedom, her decent income and her right to choose her own destiny when she saw what these people had to live with, the women especially, handicapped by ethnicity, poverty, culture and gender. It was the sheer hopelessness of it that got to her. She couldn’t change anything for these people. They were just dabbing antiseptic onto a massive infection.

 “I’m right, no?” says Frieda. “You’re an Action Woman with a mission- but this is something you can’t fix, not like broken bodies. “

 Bernie turns her head and looks Frieda in the eye.

 “You missed your calling”, is all she says and Frieda laughs.

 “So I’m told. But what are you going to do? Bernie, I can see you’re pissed at Serena, but don’t let that stand in the way of where you want to go professionally. You’re making it all about Serena, but really it’s all about you. Serena can wait for you for once.” She jumps to her feet.

 “Come on, there’s a fantastic vegetarian café over there, let’s get lunch”.

When Bernie is standing again, Frieda suddenly moves in and hugs her hard.

 “Physician, heal thyself”, she says.

 

 

 

 

 


	10. Once More I'm Learning - True Love Is So Rare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hospital CEO intervenes to try to recruit Bernie, with a little help from Henrik Hanssen! Serena takes a step back and accepts that Bernie's and the hospital's professional needs come before her personal needs. She is rewarded when she hears that Bernie has agreed to take the position- and, moreover, that she won't be coming alone. Bernie has an embarrassing experience and she and Frieda share some personal stories on their stopover in Bangkok.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have upped the general rating to 'M" now as Bernie and Serena move back into each other's orbit. I had planned a longer chapter but ended up with over 4,000 words so took pity on you poor readers and split it. We are heading for the home strait now, just one or two bumps in the road to navigate. Smut is not really my forte but am trying to incorporate a bit more for those who have requested it!
> 
> Frieda's story about her sister is based on a true story from my own family. It just seemed kind of appropriate here.
> 
> Title from "Leaving Me Now" by Level 42.

Bernie feels better after her day out, the exercise, fresh air and a blast of Frieda’s  common sense  have given her renewed energy. She sleeps soundly on Sunday night for the first time since leaving Saigon and goes to her first surgeries with a lighter heart. The morning passes quickly. As she is heading back to her quarters after lunch for a rest, her phone rings. She doesn't recognise the number but sees that the prefix is 84, meaning Vietnam. She hesitates before replying.

 “Wolfe.”

 “Am I speaking to Berenice Wolfe?” asks a voice with a marked French accent.

 “Yes, that’s me,” she replies.

 “My name is Marie-Paule Richard”, the voice says, “I am the CEO of the Hôpital Français International in Ho Chi Minh City. How are you today?”

 Nonplussed, Bernie stammers “I’m..I’m fine”.

 “Is this a good time to talk, Berenice?”

 “Er..yes, yes”, Bernie has reached her room and unlocks the door, moving to sit on the bed.

 “ _Bien_. Now my Human Resources manager tells me that while you were in Saigon last week, they made a proposal to you about becoming the Director of our new Trauma Centre. Is that correct?”

 The English is a little slow and over -precise but the voice is kind.

 “Yes, that is correct”. Bernie finds herself mimicking the other woman’s speech pattern and mentally kicks herself.

 “And your response to this offer was…? It seems I am missing some information about that.”

 Bernie takes a deep breath and says “My response was that I was still committed to MSF in Bangladesh and that when it ended I would consider this offer as one of the options available to me”.

 “I see, thank you. Now, I hear that your current contract is due to expire at the end of next week. May I ask whether you have renewed or intend to renew that commitment? “

 Bernie hesitates but something in the woman’s voice pulls her in. “I have not made a final decision, but at present it seems unlikely”, she says.

 “And so, if you do not renew, can you tell me whether our proposal would be something you could consider”.

 “Yes, yes, I think I could”, she stammers.

 “ _D’accord_ , well, we are at this stage that we must put a date for this post to be filled. Before final decisions are made, there is some paperwork, I’m sure you understand. So while you are still…er..considering the post, is it acceptable to you if we ask your current and former employers for references? That is, Mr. Elliot Hope in Bangladesh, and Mr. Henrik Hanssen at Holby City Hospital.”

 Bernie cannot see any objection.

 “And to make matters go quicker, could you send me your CV or authorise Mr Hanssen to send it?”

 “I..er..no, that’s fine. Go ahead and ask Henrik”.

 “Excellent. Now I want to add one or two points before I leave you. Firstly, the pro-forma contract you saw is not the final one- we will add that this position comes with housing provided. We will provide a studio apartment free of charge as part of the package for a single doctor. You are single, I believe.”

 “Er..yes, yes, I am . Um..that’s .. marvellous,“ stutters Bernie, not having  given any thought to the matter of housing.

 “ _Tr_ _ès bien_. So, Berenice, I will record that you have expressed strong interest in this post and would like to be considered as one of the candidates. “

 Bernie is confused. Are there other people wanting this post? Her impression was that they were on the verge of desperate.

 “Um..how many other candidates are there?” she asks.

 “ _Eh bien,_ we have been struggling to fill this post since someone turned it down, so last week I made an _annonce_ in some sites for recruiting doctors. At this point I cannot say. But you are a very strong candidate- not least because you are highly recommended by my staff, who saw you operate, and by Henrik, who, you should know, is an old friend of mine.”

 “I see”.

 “Finally, I just want to let you know that we have other posts available for surgeons- in different specialisations. If you have any colleagues who may be interested, please encourage them to contact us. I will send you an email with the job specifications”.

 The call ends shortly and Bernie sits on her bed in a daze, holding the phone in her hand. Her first thought is to call Serena- but this new approach has nothing to do with her, it seems. No one had mentioned this Marie-Paule while she was in Saigon.  Elliot had made himself clear, he was in favour, so no point in asking his advice. Bernie lies down for her nap, her head buzzing. After five minutes, unable to sleep, she sits up abruptly and calls Henrik.

 “Good morning, Ms Wolfe. Bright and early I see”, is the cheerful greeting. For a moment Bernie is confused, then she realises the time difference.

 “Early for you maybe, it’s lunchtime here”, she says.

 “Ah yes, of course. How could I forget. Bangladesh, isn’t it?”

 “Yes, that’s right”, Bernie plays along- of course he knows exactly where she is!

 “I’ve just had a call from a friend of yours”, she says briskly.

 “That would be Marie-Paule, I assume?” he asks without a trace of embarrassment.

 “Of course it is. What’s going on, Henrik? “

 “Well, as far as I can tell, your recent stay in Saigon and contribution to the trauma team in their hospital so impressed them that they would like to hire you as the Director of their Trauma Unit”.

 “Does Serena have anything to do with this?”

 “Serena’s there, as you know, and it seems she’s also working at that hospital part-time, but no, the request comes directly from the Deputy Trauma lead, Dr. Jean-Philippe Huguet, and is endorsed by the CEO. Or so I am told”.

 “I see. And has Serena called you at all to talk about this?”

 “No, Bernie, she hasn’t. The first I knew about it was when Marie-Paule contacted me to ask about you. I gave you a glowing reference, as I’m sure you would expect.”

 So much for asking her permission to seek references, thinks Bernie wryly.

 “Does this Marie-Paule know anything about my relationship with Serena?”

 “Not that I’m aware, no. This was not mentioned.”

 “OK, thank you, Henrik. That’s all I wanted to know. Just one last question- how would you rate this hospital?”

 “Ah, that’s interesting! Marie-Paule is one of the most forward-thinking, dynamic professors I know. She’s in her 60’s but she’s full of energy and ideas. She’s invested a lot of time with these non-profit trusts in recent years, and she wouldn’t choose a project unless it was destined to become a huge success, I can tell you. If she’s on board and actually living there, I can guarantee it will be a ground-breaker. A perfect opportunity for one with your talents, Ms Wolfe”.

 Bernie puts the phone down not a little bemused.

 

**Serena**

Serena is getting slowly used to being alone again. Instead of moving back to Véro’s house, she decides to ask Tien if she can rent his apartment properly. He refuses to take money, but gives her a rental contract and registers her with the police so that she is legal. She agrees to pay all bills and maintenance charges.

 Serena tries to set a routine for herself every day so that she will be busy and not think about Bernie all the time. She is on tenterhooks waiting for the result of the applications for Trauma lead, and every day that brings no news is torture.

 On Tuesday, Pilou asks her to go to The Chill Bar to join a Trivia quiz team. This is the first time she’s been out since Bernie left, and despite forcing herself to go, she finds she enjoys it immensely. During a break, Pilou says “you haven’t told me what was going on with Bernie before she left. I asked Véro but she didn’t want to discuss it.”

 Serena rolls her eyes. “Remember that text you sent me last Wednesday, about how I should do everything to hang onto Bernie so that you could hire her?” He nods. “Well, it backfired. We tried, she found out we had gone to her boss behind her back to try to get her released earlier.  She left. Furious.”

 “Ouch!” Pilou looks pained. “Véro said she had gone to finish her rotation and might be back. Is that true?”

 “No idea. But if she is, I might have to shift to the clinic full time. She isn’t talking to me”.

 “Serena, that’s impossible! We need you at the hospital. You’re the only vascular specialist we’ve got. You and Bernie are the Dream team, believe me! “

 “Were. The Dream Team.” Serena doesn’t smile.

 “Well, we have to fix that”, Pilou says determinedly.

 Finally, on Friday,Véro comes to the hospital clutching a folder. She goes into Marie-Paule’s office, and winks at Serena as she passes. Serena feels her stomach clench and her heart rate accelerate- unless that’s the Vietnamese iced coffee she’s been overdosing on every day after lunch!

 She comes out after half an hour and says “Bernie’s paperwork has been cleared – and a few minutes ago she emailed back a signed prof-forma contract. She’s good to go.”

 Serena is overjoyed and throws her arms around Véro. “That’s wonderful”, she beams.

“But”, Véro says,

 “How can there be a but?”

 “But- she has accepted the accommodation package for a single person, that is, a studio in the residential block”.

 Serena’s face falls, then she says. “All that matters is that she comes here and does what she’s good at. You’ve got the best Trauma Director you could possibly get.”

 “In the circumstances, we now need to review your position”, says Véro.

 “I can move to the clinic,” offers Serena.

 “No, that’s not what we had in mind. Marie-Paule wants you in the ED and attached to General Surgery. You’re Tien’s mentor, don’t forget. Pilou will now go full time to Trauma, so the chances of overlaps are not so high. I still want you here in case you’re needed. We can play with the shifts as well if you like”.

 Serena agrees, and Véro bustles off to prepare Serena’s contract and start procedures for her and Bernie’s work permits. As she’s leaving, she turns a little and says

 “By the way, it seems one of Bernie’s colleagues may be joining us on the CT ward. Frieda Petrenko?”

 

  **Bernie**

The last few days have been a whirl of paperwork and anxiety about the post. Once Bernie decided that she couldn’t let it slip away she has been assiduous in doing whatever Marie- Paule has asked. She is also delighted that Frieda will be joining her. She has grown closer to the younger woman in her time in Bangladesh, and her steadying influence has been of great help to Bernie in dealing with the daily challenges of the camps.

 It’s Saturday night and Bernie has just come back from having a few beers with Frieda and some of the others. Everything seems lined up. She has Face- Timed with her children and Morven and told them what has been happening with her job, to their collective delight and promises of visits. Yet Serena remains the elephant in the room. She has avoided the topic successfully so far, letting the children assume all is well and carefully evading questions about Serena.

 When she goes to bed, it is with an undeniable sense of glee that she has only 5 more days of work here. She and Frieda have already booked their flights, including a one night stopover in Bangkok to replenish their wardrobes- having been warned that European clothes and shoe sizes are hard to find in Vietnam.

Bernie has not contacted Serena, though her finger has hovered over the WhatsApp reply button many times. Now she thinks it is time to give her official notification.

  _Hi Serena, hope you’re well. I’ve accepted the post as Trauma lead and will arrive in Saigon next Sunday. They are providing accommodation. Frieda is coming, too. I’ll see you at work. x_

Bernie and Frieda take the 2am Thai Airways flight out of Dhaka the following Saturday morning, having spent most of the previous afternoon at the MSF offices finishing up their paperwork. Bernie feels both relief and guilt to be leaving, but Elliot assures her that there is no shortage of doctors to take her place.

“This is not your thing”, he says, “now go and perform miracles in Vietnam. I understand the level of motorcycle accidents should provide you with ample opportunities to show off your brilliance!”

 ***

 Bernie comes to in the dark, conscious of another presence. She is in a soft, comfortable bed. For a moment she lies, suspended in uncertainty, afraid to move, then she feels a whisper of breath against her cheek and a warm body slides over her own.

 “Bernie”, a voice whispers, “I knew I’d find you here”. At the first syllable of her name, Bernie knows the voice is Serena’s. She tries to bring her arms up to embrace her, but finds her muscles locked in place. She sobs “Serena” as a warm mouth comes to cover her own- “Sshhh!” The kiss is long and deep, Serena taking Bernie’s head in her hands as she uses her tongue to tangle with Bernie’s and twists her head this way and that. Bernie feels warm all over, suddenly conscious of the feel of Serena’s breasts against hers through their nightdresses, and, oh– the pressure of her thighs and mound against Bernie’s. Bernie gasps as Serena breaks the kiss, desperate to put her hands on Serena’s bottom, to squeeze, caress, but she is immobile, held by some invisible force. She can feel herself getting wet as Serena pushes her body repeatedly against her, deliberately brushing a thigh against her sex, then sitting up to lift off her nightdress so that she is naked. In the semi-darkness Bernie can see those luscious breasts just inches from her mouth and she cries out with want, until Serena settles back over her so that she can take a nipple into her mouth. Bernie sucks and nibbles until she can hear Serena’s breath start to come in short gasps, then Serena twists away, and begins moving down Bernie’s body, lifting her T-shirt, placing her hands and mouth on Bernie’s breasts, sucking, nipping, squeezing. Bernie is gasping “Serena, please”, and Serena suddenly raises her head, looks directly into Bernie’s eyes and puts a finger to her lips to silence her. Bernie is panting now, has to strangle a cry as Serena pushes her fingers under the elastic of her sleep shorts and in a single swift motion pushes one of her long, elegant fingers deep inside Bernie. Unable to move, Bernie can only wait for the finger to stroke her. She is so keyed up that she thinks she will come at the first touch of her clit, but Serena surprises her by removing her finger. She wastes no time in pulling down Bernie’s shorts, and suddenly Bernie feels Serena’s mouth on her, tongue swiping, swirling, spelling Bernie’s name up, over, in and all around her sex. It’s like a form of torture, Bernie straining for release and unable to move her hips or her arms. Serena keeps going until finally she sucks on Bernie’s clit with short, sharp motions and Bernie tips over the edge, moaning.

 She surfaces slowly from the dream and opens her eyes-  Serena is gone and the bedside light is on. Frieda is looking at her anxiously.

 “Bernie, are you OK? Did you have a nightmare?”

 For a few seconds Bernie is unable to respond, still struggling with the after effects of her orgasm, feeling the wetness on her thighs. Then she quickly pulls the duvet up over her chest and mumbles “What?” as if she has been asleep the whole time.

 “You were making some very strange noises”, Frieda says, and Bernie blushes deep red, aware that she must have been moaning in her sleep, and hoping she didn’t give too much away.

 Frieda is leaning out of her twin bed seeming concerned, but when she sees Bernie blushing, she starts to laugh.

 “Oh, one of THOSE dreams,” she says. “And the way you were saying ‘Serena’ doesn’t leave much to the imagination”.

 Bernie is cringing now with shame and embarrassment. She tries to work out what Frieda could have seen, but her T-shirt is in place and her shorts are still on. Her hands are by her side and her fingers feel dry. Amazingly, she seems to have come without touching herself.

 “Ah, sorry”, she says. “It was a weird dream”.

 Frieda is diplomatic enough not to ask her to describe it, but the way Bernie was crying Serena’s name has moved her.

 “Look, I know this is kind of personal, but what is it exactly that is making you mad with Serena? It can’t be just that thing the other day, surely? You’re not that vindictive or petty, I know you, Bernie. There must be something else. Look, I’m gonna turn off the light. If you want to talk, feel free. Nothing you say here goes any further than me, you know that”.

 So, in the darkness, as they lie in their separate beds in a Bangkok hotel room, Bernie tells Frieda about the three months she spent as a prisoner of Serena’s grief. She tells her about the drinking, the bullying of Jasmine, and finally, the terrible thing that Serena said to her that could never be unsaid - _“You know, maybe if you hadn’t come back from Kyiv…”_ and how difficult it was for Bernie to get past this, to trust Serena again, especially after the period of prolonged absence when Bernie felt totally abandoned.

 Frieda listens to this in silence. Then she says softly “What a terrible time you had Bernie. And everyone was focusing on Serena, no one thought to ask you how you were”.  Bernie feels tears coming to her eyes when Frieda says this.

 “But let me tell you a little story. I hope it will help you to see something important here”. She pauses, while Bernie sniffs and reaches for a tissue to wipe her eyes and nose. 

 “I have one older sister, Anya. My mother’s cousin had got pregnant when she was 15, and abandoned the baby, eventually going off to work abroad. My parents had had difficulty in conceiving so they adopted the baby. Then 2 years later, my mother fell pregnant with me. I always thought of Anya as my sister and my parents always treated her as a daughter. There was no difference between us that I could see.

 “Then, when I was about 14, my grandmother died. It was a cold winter and she got pneumonia. Every day my parents went to the hospital and she was fading a little more each time. She was only 69, but she had had a very hard life. The last time I saw her, she was in an oxygen tent in the hospital and we all gathered round, my parents, my sister, my cousins, aunts and uncles and me. When we were leaving the hospital, my mother suddenly broke down, she knew her mother was about to die, there was nothing we could do. She was inconsolable. Anya went to her first and put her arms round her to comfort her, but my mother pushed her away and came to me and hung onto me, crying. At the time, I thought it strange, and it stayed in my memory but I didn’t attach too much significance to it. Unfortunately, my aunt had seen what happened and she said something to Anya that showed that she thought my mother had pushed her away in favour of her own child-me.

 “I grew up, I left home, I went to university and then I left Ukraine and all that time I never thought about the possible significance of what happened that night. But Anya never forgot. She had a rebellious phase, she tried to find her own mother-who wasn’t interested, she got married, she got divorced, she was an unhappy person. I still kept a close friendship with her, but she was difficult - very prickly and oversensitive. Then, the last time I was in Ukraine, maybe three years ago, Anya and I were with our mother and Anya asked her if she remembered the time grandmother died, when our mother pushed her away. My mother was totally surprised- she had no idea, she denied it, and I really believe she had no memory of it. Anya then asked me if I remembered and I had to say I did. My mother was really, really upset. The fact that I also remembered meant it had happened, but she couldn’t believe she had done something so cruel. Never once in all her life had my mother treated Anya badly or differently to me. Just this one time. But it festered in Anya’s imagination, she admitted that from then on she thought of herself as less than me, that she was even jealous of me and that she thought my mother always preferred me to her. I had had no idea about this, neither had my mother. After a while Anya began to understand that whatever happened that night didn’t mean my mother thought less of her. It was just something she did at the height of her grief that she had no awareness of later. My mother began to realise a lot of things about Anya’s behaviour that stemmed from that night, and gradually the relationship between them got better.

 “What I’m trying to say, Bernie, is that sometimes we do or say things whose impact we can’t be aware of. Sometimes we don’t even remember doing them. But those small things can become a big deal if they affect the whole way another person sees you after that. I can’t speak for Serena, what she was feeling when she said that to you, but I think you need to consider the big picture, you shouldn’t let one thing colour your whole life. True love is so rare. If you really love her, which you clearly do, you need to find a way back to what you were and what you still can be. This is your chance. Think about that”.

 Bernie was still sniffling, and now she starts crying harder. Frieda lets her cry, she doesn’t move.

 “Let it out, Bernie. Follow your heart- of course, you must put your own welfare first, but don’t destroy your future happiness over one error of judgement on her part.”

 

**Serena- one week earlier**

It’s a rainy Saturday evening and Serena has been asleep all afternoon on her couch after an intense morning of operations. She finally drags herself up and has a shower to clear away the stale, fuzzy feeling of just-woke-up. As she finishes blow -drying her hair, her doorbell rings and Pilou and Tien are there.

 “Hey, missy, couldn’t leave you all alone on a Saturday evening”, says Pilou, lifting her off her feet and swinging her round.

 “Oi, you’ll rupture yourself”, is all she says, but she is laughing.

 “So, we thought- option one: pasta and classic French movie at home?” he twirls a usb stick at her. “Option two- that new Japanese restaurant 2 doors down, or option three- well, you name option three”.

  _Ping_ , Serena looks down at her phone which flashes up a WhatsApp message.

 “Oh, it’s from Bernie!”

 “What does it say?” Tien is almost as eager as her to see the message. She shows them the screen:

  _Hi Serena, hope you’re well. I’ve accepted the post as Trauma lead and will arrive in Saigon next Sunday. They are providing accommodation. Frieda is coming, too. I’ll see you at work. x_

 “Hmm, a bit terse, wouldn’t you say?” asks Pilou.

 “Well at least she’s communicating”, says Tien.

 “Yes, indeed”, murmurs Serena. “So, fellas, you’ll be getting  Wonder Woman after all- two Wonder Women in fact, Frieda Petrenko's one of the best,  I think that’s cause for celebration! Of a Japanese kind?”

 “You’re on- but you do know they don’t do Shiraz, don’t you?”

 “Well, I can be adventurous for once. I've always wanted to try _sake._ ”

“Hmm, and  then we’ll have to go to Connie’s for a nightcap”, laughs Pilou.


	11. Starting Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernie and Frieda move to Saigon and start working at the hospital. Frieda soon makes a new friend, and Bernie and Serena drift back into each other's orbit, trying to repair the damage from the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many, many apologies for the long wait -this fic is nearing its conclusion but opportunities to get this chapter finished were few in recent weeks. Now back on track, hopefully. Sorry in advance for the lack of smut but I promise it is on the way !

**Bernie**

Saigon is a welcome sight after the large scale craziness that is Bangkok, and the grey, humid chaos of Dhaka. Bernie notes the trees and parks she sees as they wend their way towards District 2 in the car provided by the hospital. Frieda is clearly pleased by what she is seeing, waving at small children who point to her when the car stops at traffic lights, and taking pictures of things that interest her.  It’s a clear day, and as they cross the Saigon bridge, Bernie feels a thrum of excitement uncurling in her belly. Last time she was very much escorted and protected, but this feels more real.

 The third-floor corner studio apartment that the hospital has allocated to her is well designed- small but compact, with a floor to ceiling window and sliding door onto a small balcony. On the table in each apartment there is a folder containing lists of useful information, vouchers for different restaurants, bars and shops, a map of Thao Dien village, where they are living, with landmarks, and a local SIM card which they are instructed to activate immediately as their official contact for the hospital. There is a list of numbers of the key staff they will be working with. Bernie sees Serena’s number on the list under “Dr. Serena Campbell, Consultant Vascular and General Surgeon”. She notes that the practice of dropping the “Doctor” from senior surgeon’s names is not used here.

 On a separate post-it note, there is a personal message:

 “ _Hi, Bernie_ , _a_   _big welcome to sunny Saigon. Welcome drinks here (arrow and map) at 7.00 pm. Please join us. Pilou (Dr. Jean-Philippe Huguet _).”

 It seems Frieda has one too because she knocks on Bernie’s door and arranges to meet her at 6.45 pm to go to the welcome party. Bernie doesn’t know what to expect- will Serena be there? She feels trepidation – during her previous stay, most of these people had met her as Serena’s partner. Was she still Serena’s partner? Or would they be carving out separate identities?  Feeling panic rising, she pushes the thought to the back of her mind, and focuses on unpacking her clothes.

 The humidity and the conditions in which they lived in Bangladesh had not been kind to Bernie’s clothes. Never the world’s smartest dresser, her plain cotton tees, shirts and skinny jeans had suffered from not being dried properly and smelling damp and mouldy. She had salvaged the few items that were still wearable, put the rest in a bag for the local staff to donate or destroy as appropriate, and thrown herself on the mercy of Bangkok’s shopping malls.

She liked very much the clothes that Serena had bought for her on their previous visit, and a few minutes looking at labels and then at Google had given her the address of the shop. They headed to Siam Paragon together but Frieda turned her nose up at Uniqlo.

 “Not my thing”, she said, “it’s so much like a uniform. I prefer a more distinctive look”.

 Bernie laughed,  “That’s the whole point. I don’t want people looking at or commenting on my clothes all the time. I just need them to do the job and look respectable.”

 “I would have guessed you were a Marks and Sparks kind of gal”, Frieda teased.

 “Ha, that’s more Serena- but only the stuff at the pricier end of the scale”, Bernie replied.

 “Not even underwear?” asked Frieda, a glint in her eye. “I thought all British women of a certain age bought their undies at M & S”.

 “Er..um..I’m actually more of a Sloggi kind of person”, said Bernie, colouring.

 “What's that?”

 “Oh, I forget how young you are”, sighed Bernie as Frieda laughed and headed for something more exotic. She didn’t see Bernie slip into M & S lingerie when she had  finished in the Japanese shop.

 Now she looks at the simple cream bra and knickers set she bought- a big improvement on the misshapen, holey collection of things she had randomly stuffed into her bag back in England. She has bought a few packs of practical knickers and a couple of sports bras in a department store for everyday wear as well, but as she strokes the sexy, satiny garments she wonders if she will have the chance to wear them for Serena.

 “Not tonight”, she thinks, putting her shirts, trousers and dresses on hangers, her T-shirts and underwear in drawers and unpacking her laptop and accessories on the desk.

 By 6.30 Bernie is showered and dressed in skinny dark denim and an oversized red, blue and white striped T-shirt with her red Converse sneakers. As she leaves her room, Frieda comes out of her own door in full make up, black lips and all, and they head downstairs.

 “How do we find this place?” asks Frieda. “Ah- motorbike taxi, I should think”, says Bernie, looking at the map she has brought.

 Frieda is doing something with her phone. “The Grab app”, she says, and in minutes has ordered 2 Grab bikes which arrive promptly. Frieda sits neatly on the back of hers, looking for all the world as if she has spent her life riding Honda scooters in Vietnam, while Bernie, with her tall, lanky frame, struggles to find space for her knees and holds on desperately to the rear support. The ride takes 10 minutes and they roll into the courtyard of The Chill Bar at 7.05 pm.  Frieda, who is better organised than Bernie, and has both changed money and visited a local convenience store to buy essentials and get small change, pays, and Bernie dismounts in great relief. As she does so, she sees Pilou coming towards them.

 “Hey, Bernie, it’s good to see you again”, he smiles reaching in for a hug, “and you must be Frieda. Hi, I’m Pilou”. Frieda smiles and shakes his hand.

 “And good to see you – oh is that your bike?” Bernie asks, pointing to a beautiful, white Honda PCX parked in the yard.

 “Yup”

 “Wow- I’m going to be asking Grab for one of those next time. Ouch! My back!”, and they all laugh.

 “It will be my pleasure to drive you any time you want”, says Pilou gallantly.

 “Where’s Tien?” she asks.

 “Unfortunately he’s on shift until 11 pm. With Serena.”

 Bernie feels a flash of disappointment, and at that moment her phone pings with a new WhatsApp message:

  _Hi Bernie, I hope you had a good journey and that you enjoy the welcome party. I’m on the late shift tonight, so have a good evening and I’ll see you tomorrow. S x_

As they stand in the courtyard, there is a sudden hissing and snarling noise from somewhere to their left, and a black and white flash as something runs from the garden past them and straight up a tree. Pilou laughs and says “This is Connie’s bar, and she’s a cat person. They’re always fighting!”

 He calls “Hey, Connie”, and she emerges from the back of the courtyard, hugging a fit-looking tortoiseshell feline with a white chest and insolent amber eyes.

 “It’s Foxy”, she says, indicating the cat who doesn’t look too happy to have been extricated from the fight. “She’s attacking that next door cat again- ouch!”. Foxy suddenly twists out of Connie’s arms, leaving a trail of blood spots in her wake. Frieda is the first to react.

 “Look, you’ve been scratched “, she exclaims, as Connie looks down and sees blood dripping from her arm.

 “Yeah, it happens a lot. I try to separate them before Foxy beats the shit out of him but one or both get me in the process.”

 Frieda moves in “Do you have a first aid kit? Let me help you with that”.

 Connie looks somewhat startled, so Frieda adds “I’m a doctor” – she gestures “we’re all doctors, so take advantage of your good fortune.”.

 Connie says “OK, this way”, and leads Frieda inside.

 "Well, that’s one introduction out of the way”, laughs Pilou. “Come on, let’s get a drink and meet some of your new colleagues”, and he and Bernie head inside to the bar.

 Once Connie has had her arm cleaned, disinfected and bandaged by Frieda, with a promise to drop into the ED tomorrow for a tetanus shot and to have it checked for infection, she heads back to the kitchen and calls up platters of cheese and cold cuts to go with the drinks.

The evening is pleasant and passes amicably, but Bernie can only think about Serena. She meets some of the French and Vietnamese doctors she will be working with, but Véro doesn’t show up (Pilou explains that it is her son’s first birthday and they have had a party for him in the afternoon).  The evening winds up early, at around 10pm, and Pilou takes Bernie back on his motorbike while Connie orders a Grab for Frieda.

 Serena is in the staff morning meeting next day at 8.30 sharp. Bernie goes over to her immediately and they hug like friends, Bernie even holding on a little too long so that Serena pats her gently on the back to show she feels the same way.  Frieda also comes to hug Serena. Then they get separated for the rest of the day.

The first week is intense- Bernie and Pilou are now working out the timeframe for the opening of the Trauma Centre and Bernie goes back to her apartment shattered every evening. If a trauma case comes she is paged, and has to go to deal with it on one of the other wards while her Trauma Unit is still unfinished. She has not had time to hook up with Serena and by Thursday is wondering how she has managed so far not to interact with her at all. But all that is about to change.

 On Thursday morning, Bernie runs into Serena in the staff room, making instant coffee.

 “Hey, a far cry from your favourite triple shot latte” shoots Bernie, seeing Serena dump two teaspoons of instant coffee granules into a cup and top it up with hot water, adding a sachet of creamer.

 Serena sighs. “A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do”, she smiles, adding “the café here hasn’t got the hang of the kind of coffee we like yet, and Starbuck’s is a motorbike ride away. So I bought this jar of instant while considering what the best solution would be.” She offers the jar to Bernie, who takes it and makes a cup of black coffee.

 “By the way, tonight is Pool night at The Chill Bar. If you’re free, come along. We need some more members.”

 Bernie considers. “We’ll see. I’m not much of  a pool player”.

 “Neither was I”, smiles Serena, “until I started hanging out with Connie, that is”.

 Two hours later, Bernie is paged to the ED, where Serena and Frieda are struggling to stabilise a patient with massive injuries from being crushed in a fall inside a collapsing building.

 “How did this happen?” asks Bernie above the noise of bleeping machines and rattling equipment.

 “He’s a construction supervisor, Taiwanese, working on demolishing some old buildings to put up a new block of apartments”, says Serena. “It seems a wall came down while they were working nearby. We’ve alerted the Taiwanese consulate and they’ll try to contact his family to get someone here for when he wakes up.”

 “You mean ‘if’,” says Frieda grimly, holding an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth as they prepare to wheel him to theatre. “The chest injuries are severe, but you’ll have to work on the damage to the abdomen at the same time”.

 “Page Dr. Tien”, yells Serena at the nursing staff as they move the trolley down the corridor.

 Four hours later, the patient is placed in  the ITU, and Bernie and Serena are scrubbing out side by side, Frieda having been called to another case after completing work on the patient’s lungs. Tien is closing up.

 “Touch and go”, says Bernie, casting a sideways glance at Serena.

 “Certainly was”, Serena agrees. “I could do with that drink now!”

 Bernie looks at her shyly, “I’m heading home to change before I go out – do you need to go home first?”

 “No, I brought clothes with me”, smiles Serena.

 “Would you, um, like to see my hospital apartment?”

 “I’d love to”.

 

**Serena**

 When Serena has changed into her street clothes, they leave the hospital and walk the 5 minutes to the apartment block. Serena is impressed.

 “This is really nice,” she says, surveying the big window and airy living room, “I had no idea they were building these”. She says this a little sadly, thinking of her much bigger, now empty apartment.

 Bernie coughs awkwardly, “I’m uh.. just going to shower and change. Make yourself at home. Drinks in the fridge, Shiraz included.”

 Serena pours herself a glass of red wine and tries not to think of a naked Bernie just a few feet away. She goes to the balcony and stands looking down at the hospital compound. Her senses are on full alert, a tingle radiating out from her core at the thought that Bernie may be allowing her anger at what she perceived to be Serena’s previous betrayal to recede, and to be willing to rebuild their relationship.

 Once they reach the Chill Bar, Bernie stays near Serena, making no attempt to interact with other colleagues who gradually appear for the pool competition. Connie nudges Serena as she passes with a tray of drinks and whispers “looking good!” as she moves to the customers' table to deposit them. Serena is just wondering how Connie can be wandering around delivering drinks when she looks over at the bar and sees Frieda pulling pints.

 “Shall we get a bottle?” she asks Bernie, seeing that their glasses are empty. Bernie smiles and nods, busy watching some of the pool players warming up, so Serena goes over to Frieda.

 “Helping out?” she asks.

 “Just, you know, an extra pair of hands”, smiles Frieda, putting the craft beers down on the bar for the waiting players.

 “In that case I’ll have a bottle of your finest Shiraz”, says Serena, noting that Frieda already seems to know where everything is.

 Frieda unscrews the top of a bottle of Chilean Shiraz and puts it down in front of Serena, who leans towards her. “Has Bernie said anything to you, about me, I mean?”

 Frieda is a blank slate, no expression as she says “I don’t tell tales.”

 “That’s not what I’m asking”, says Serena. “I just want to know whether I have another chance with her”.

 Frieda regards her stonily for a moment, her heavy make up giving her an almost clown-like appearance, then she winks at Serena.

 “Just give her time”, she says. Serena feels herself get warm and smiles back. “Thanks”, she says, taking the bottle and winking back at Frieda.

The evening progresses with great merriment as the hospital crew takes on the local pool team. Bernie has understated her ability as usual, Serena notes, unable to resist ogling her perfect rear as she angles herself into position. She also sees Bernie trying not to look down the front of her top as she lines up her cue.  She feels a little thrum of excitement as the game progresses, letting Bernie see her shoot lust-filled glances in her direction then look away. Bernie’s face gets a flush with the wine and the attention Serena is silently giving  her.

During a break, Serena goes to the bathroom, while Bernie heads for the bar. When she comes out of the toilet cubicle and is washing her hands she hears someone enter  and close the outer door. She glances up into the mirror and sees Bernie standing behind her, a pained expression on her face. She remains looking in the mirror as Bernie approaches.

 “Serena, I… uh…”

 Serena finishes drying her hands and turns to face her. She sees her own blazing desire mirrored in Bernie’s eyes. They gravitate towards each other and before Serena can say a word they are kissing. Bernie is still struggling to articulate something, but Serena pushes her tongue between Bernie’s lips, feeling her surging response and her arms coming tight around Serena’s shoulders.

 “Mmmmmm” moans Bernie, moving her hands down to squeeze Serena’s bottom. Serena wriggles away.

 “Not a good idea to continue this here”, she pants.

 Bernie is trying to regain some composure “No, no absolutely…”, looking nervously at the door.

 “Let’s get  back to the game”.

 As they exit the bathroom, Serena sees Connie looking at the door and raising her eyebrows as they  emerge together. Serena blushes but tries to appear nonchalant. The game is almost over, the local team only narrowly beating the hospital, and people are drifting off and into corners with their drinks. Bernie reaches for Serena’s hand and pulls her towards the courtyard. They find a quiet table and as Bernie is clearly struggling with something, Serena decides to tackle the subject head on.

 “So is this where you tell me that kissing me just then was a mistake?” she asks gently.

 Bernie hangs her head. “No, Serena, no, I just wanted to say that this.. this has gone on long enough.”

 “What? Us being estranged? Or just Us?” Serena can’t avoid a slight edge creeping into her voice.

 Bernie is flushing, but she bravely meets Serena’s eyes. “Being estranged,” she manages.

 “I ..I..miss you so much,” she stammers, while Serena stays silent, letting her try to articulate whatever she is feeling.

 “When I left, it was because I felt you were trying to take over my life, my decisions. I know things can never be the same as they were before ..”

 “Elinor died,” supplies Serena.

 “Yes. I know how hard that was for you, Serena, I was there, I saw. But it was hard for me too. I need you to understand that.”

 “I realise that, in retrospect,” says Serena. “I wasn’t myself- and I’m not making that an excuse- I was a bitch, and I hurt lots of people, not only you”.

 “The thing is,” Bernie says, “I was wandering for some time, I switched off and I tried to rebuild my life. Now we’re here together, each on our own terms, and there’s nothing more I want than to move on from the past and start a new…”

 “Journey?” suggests Serena, squeezing Bernie’s fingertips.

 “Yes, a good word”, agrees Bernie.

 “So where do we start?” asks Serena, hoping she may get to rip Bernie’s clothes off in one of their two apartments tonight.

 “Maybe we could date,” suggests Bernie.

 “Like teenagers?”

 “No,…I mean, maybe we could go more slowly, just, er…….”.

 “Try to rebuild that trust? Get to know each other again?”

 “Something like that”.  Bernie looks down, then adds “Not that I don't want to ravish you on the spot, but I think the friendship we had was the most important thing, and somewhere along the line it got damaged.”

 Serena considers a moment, trying to push down her disappointment, but then she says softly, “I think you're right. Much as I’ve missed you, physically, I mean, I miss the relationship more.  So let's work on it.”

 Bernie reaches over and takes her hand. “Tomorrow’s Friday. Barring any major incidents, would you like to go to dinner with me?”

 “I’d be delighted, Major!”

 “So that’s a date. I'll pick you up at seven.”

 “Done. Oh, and you might want to consult Dr. Huguet on the choice of restaurants, Major, seeing as you're new here. He’s quite the expert”. Her eyes are twinkling.

 “Point taken, Dr. Campbell”, Bernie grins.

 When Serena goes to pay her tab, Connie raises her eyebrows. “Romance back on track?”

 “Starting to be”, Serena smiles, as she sees Connie nudge Frieda with her elbow. She goes back outside where Bernie is waiting with a taxi to take them to their separate homes.

 “Just one thing, Major- find somewhere private, this place is starting to feel like a goldfish bowl!”

 

 

 

 


	12. Still Mesmerised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernie and Serena finally get time to be together to work on their reconnection. Bernie has a few surprises along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are, the last chapter, properly speaking, tho' I do plan a little epilogue for those fans of the Big Happy Ending. This has been a fun ride and thank you all for sticking with it. Your comments have made me a more diligent and dedicated writer. I do believe that the angst Bernie experienced after Elinor's death affected her much more than would have been evident with everyone focusing on Serena. Although this has got a bit tropical, I hope it shows the kind of journey someone like Bernie might have taken to get back to her love. 
> 
> The midnight sea that swells from your eyes  
> Takes just one look to know I'm still mesmerised
> 
> Leaving Me Now, Level 42

**Frieda**

The shrill blast of the telephone punctures the early afternoon quiet on the ward. Frieda Petrenko, CT registrar, picks it up. The ED nurse on the other end is babbling something incomprehensible, her English pronunciation letting her down as her panic overcomes her.

 “Hey, hey slow down, speak slowly”, she says in her distinctive Ukrainian accent.

 “Dr. Frieda is you?” asks the Vietnamese nurse.

 “That’s me,” comes the response.  There is a muffled exchange of words, then Tien’s soft voice comes down the line in French.

 “Frieda, there’s an emergency case we’re sending up from the ED. Teacher at an international school, collapsed with fever and breathing difficulties, no one knows why. A routine check found he has just arrived from working in Oman”.

 Frieda takes a sharp intake of breath. “You’re thinking MERS?”

 “We’re thinking get him into isolation as soon as possible and get the tests done. The fewer people who know or who come into contact the better. Right now, that means Nurse Huong and I who admitted him. I need your CT expertise, so get your hazard gear on, we’re coming up. Don’t let anyone else get near and prepare an isolation room”.

Frieda rings off in shock. For several years, MERS has been a risk for travellers to the Middle East but no one has been diagnosed with it in Vietnam as yet. She remembers arriving at Tan Son Nhat airport and finding masked public health officials waiting for those coming off the plane to ask if they had any symptoms. She moves quickly to find the protective gear, while one of the nurses preps an isolation room before disappearing on Frieda’s orders.

 When Tien arrives he looks like a spaceman- white oversuit, mask, gloves, booties. Nurse Huong is with him, similarly clad and looking very scared. The patient is in an oxygen tent, breathing harshly through the mask, his face white, eyes screwed up with the effort. Frieda can see his chest heaving. She ushers them into the isolation room and closes the door.

 “Did you guys prep for this?” she asks.

 Tien shakes his head. “Not this one specifically, just basic for all potential epidemics”.

 “Right, let’s get him in first, then we can run the tests”.

 Huong and Tien transfer the patient to the bed and they set up sterile precautions.

 Leaving Nurse Huong in charge, Frieda and Tien move back to the nurse’s station and he is about to pick up the phone to notify senior management when Bernie materialises in front of them.

 “What’s up?” she asks, seeing their expressions.

 “Breathing problems, maybe MERS, patient has been in Oman”, says Frieda brusquely, still not quite believing in it herself.

 “Wow –do we need to put the hospital on lockdown?” asks Bernie.

 “Dr. Tien was about to call senior management, but I think we’d both be happy for you to take over. I heard about a situation in 2003 when a private hospital in Vietnam had the first SARS case and it ended up killing quite a few nurses and doctors because they didn’t send out the alert soon enough”. Tien nods.

 Bernie, who has seen potential epidemic situations before, doesn’t hesitate. She calls the CEO direct and within minutes there is an agreement to close the CT ward and put the hospital on temporary lockdown until the results of the tests are known. Tien goes off to supervise the tests.

 Frieda is relieved. But just as Bernie puts down the phone, Serena appears. She groans.

 “Serena, we have an emergency situation here”.

 Serena raises her eyebrows, looking from Frieda to Bernie, who is shaking her head.

 “Shit, Serena, you’re stuck here now till we get these results.”

 Frieda is not sure, but is that the tiniest hint of a smile on Serena’s face as she takes Bernie’s arm and pulls her into the consultant’s office?

  **Serena**

They were four dates down and each time they had moved further into the relationship that had existed before Serena’s sabbatical. If truth be told, Serena was not the most patient date, and seeing the woman she loved over a variety of dishes, looking more gorgeous each time, was only prolonging her frustration, though Bernie claimed the lack of contact was beneficial for them in healing their friendship.

 The previous evening had been the most challenging for Serena because they had repaired to her apartment after a long day, calling out for food, and slumping on the sofa. What Serena wouldn’t have given then for the evening to have ended with them in bed, but no, as soon as the Netflix movie was over, the Thai food eaten and the wine bottle emptied, Bernie got to her feet like the good soldier she was, kissed Serena on the cheek and left. It had taken Serena a while to get to sleep, with lots of help from her battery operated friend.

Now, having come looking for Bernie on the CT ward, she finds herself suddenly trapped there while a possibly infectious patient is tested and assessed. Neither she nor Bernie is actively involved in this case, so while Frieda and Tien run the tests and monitor the patient, Bernie and Serena get to share an office with no intrusions.

 “Were you looking for me for some reason?” asks Bernie

 “I was ….just looking for you”, confirms Serena, with a suggestive expression. “Why did you come up here in any case? CT is not your ward.”

 “True. I was tracking that Taiwanese guy - you remember we did his splenectomy, and Frieda repaired his lung damage?”

 “Oh yes, last week.”

 "Well, it seems the lung repair needed some modification. I was doing the paperwork for his release and realised I didn’t have full details of the second operation.”

 “I see”.

 “Whereas you…were looking for …me?”

 Serena gives Bernie the full blast of her most seductive gaze, her warm brown eyes crinkling at the corners as she envelops Bernie in a visual hug.

 Bernie gulps, Serena cuts to the chase.

 “I missed you”, she says in a low voice. “Somehow, you leaving last night just didn’t feel right”.

 Bernie looks back at her helplessly, fighting to keep her hands by her sides.

 “S-serena, I thought we agreed to ..keep a distance for a while?”

 “I don’t know your definition of ‘a while’ but it’s obviously not the same as mine. It’s been almost two weeks, Bernie, to be Jason-precise thirteen days, seventeen hours and” she consults her watch, “forty-three minutes. If that’s not long enough, then please tell me that last night you went home and fell asleep with your two hands under the pillow”.

 “Not exactly”, Bernie confesses, blushing. “But I’ve been trying to get us a long weekend to celebrate reigniting our relationship, and I was planning to tell you today that we can be off from midday on Friday until 8am on Monday.”

 Serena looks delighted- then her face falls. “But not if matey in there really has some infectious disease. We’ll be trapped in here. “

 “I don’t really think it will come to that”, Bernie says, smiling a little bashfully.

 "You don’t? And what special insight leads you to that conclusion, I wonder?”

 Bernie takes her hand and leads her to the sofa.

 “I can’t say too much, but let’s just be aware that Marie-Paule is very keen for the staff to experience a full range of ..er..emergencies.”

 “You mean this is a pilot? But what about the patient? I gather he was gasping for breath very realistically”.

 “I’m not saying he’s not genuine- just that Tien may have been told to ..um..overreact a little”.

 Serena laughs. “Part of staff training, you mean?”

 “Something like that. You know I’ve been discussing the trauma training with Marie-Paule, she’s a real stickler for following the rulebook, and she asked me to develop some case studies for trauma treatment. I think she’s searching for sample cases from other hospitals which don’t have Trauma specialisms, so we can get the staff as much experience as possible. I can only assume that she is taking a similar approach to other specialisms. Somehow this case smacks of her devious brain.”

 “Well, Ms. Wolfe, while we’re waiting, why don’t you tell me all about this romantic weekend you’re arranging?” Serena shuffles closer to Bernie and puts her hand on her knee.

 Bernie’s eyes are shining. “All in good time, Ms Campbell! But I can tell you that you’ll need a swimsuit, a hat and plenty of sunscreen.”

 “Sounds intriguing!” Serena says, making tiny circles on Bernie’s knee with her fingers.

 “Serena”, Bernie says warningly, uncrossing her legs and moving out of reach.

 “Spoilsport!”

 At this moment the door opens and Frieda looks in. Bernie jumps to her feet.

 “Any progress?”

 “I think the patient may be suffering from a different kind of virus- as in, a kind of flu contracted locally”, says Frieda matter-of factly.

 “And how did you come to that conclusion?” asks Bernie

 “Well, firstly, there have been no new cases of MERS from Oman for quite some time. Secondly, it seems to affect mostly people who have contact with camels. According to the patient’s wife, they were working in an international school in Muscat and did not have any direct contact with camels. I would expect a case like this to be associated with other local cases, but nothing has been reported. Secondly, the symptoms are confined to slight fever with respiratory distress, no pneumonia or diarrhoea, which are other possible symptoms of MERS, so we should be looking at other causes as well. Flu is very common here at this time of year.”

 “OK I take your point. But best to be careful wouldn’t you say?”  Bernie asks.

 Freida looks at her intently for a few seconds and replies “Absolutely. And I ordered a few other tests as well, just to ..er..be careful”, she says, turning to go out.

 “She’s a smart cookie”, notes Serena admiringly.

 “Oh yes”, smiles Bernie, and, to stop Serena from going back to trying to seduce her, she tells her some amusing stories from her time in Bangladesh with Frieda.

 Sure enough, a short time later, Tien comes in, all smiles. “Emergency over, wrong virus”, he says. “It’s all under control and you’re free to go”.

 “Told you”, murmurs Bernie, leading Serena out of the CT consultant’s office and making for the lift.

 “OK, so weekend on,” says Serena as they descend to the ED. “When do we leave?”

 

**Bernie- Friday afternoon**

“Why do I need my passport if we’re not going overseas?” asks Serena as they jump out of the taxi at the airport.

 “Because you need it for ID on the plane and at the hotel. Your resident’s card by itself is not enough.”

 “Where are we going exactly?” asks Serena, like a whiny child, looking up to see the destination board at their Vietnam Airlines check-in queue. “Con Son? What’s that?”

 “It’s the capital of the Con Dao islands,” says Bernie, “which lie south-west of Ho Chi Minh City, in the South China Sea. Supposedly very unspoilt, just the place for a little relaxing break.”

 “Hmm,” says Serena, “you’ve been researching”.

 “Well, just a little!”

 ***

 Pilou met Bernie after their shift on Thursday and they walked to the parking area. Pilou handed her the key to his PCX.

 “OK Bernie, on your own this time. Two circuits of the parking lot then follow me out onto the road.”

 He jumped onto a borrowed Honda Air Blade and watched as Bernie donned his spare helmet and got astride his bike, kicking up the stand and putting the key in the ignition. The engine turned over smoothly. Bernie looked around to make sure all was clear, then twisted the throttle on the handlebar and moved off easily, completing her circuits with confidence. As she prepared to exit the hospital compound, Tien appeared and flagged her down.

 “You have a passenger,” he said, jumping on the back. Being much lighter and more flexible than Pilou, he perched easily behind her, and they followed Pilou out of the hospital and onto the road which ran through the village. Bernie had been out before, but this time, they went much further, finishing up with a short stretch on the busy highway as Pilou led her out of the village and back in again on a different road. Bernie enjoyed the feeling of freedom and the wind on her bare arms as she followed Pilou at a safe speed. Tien was relaxed behind her, leaning forward a little with his hands on his thighs, not holding onto either Bernie or the rear support. The PCX had a wide, stable seat and sat very comfortably on the road so Bernie was not burdened by Tien. In terms of weight, he added only about as much as Serena would.

 Bernie completed the ride successfully and they returned to the hospital compound.

 “Félicitations!” said Tien.

 “You’re good, Bernie”, said Pilou, dismounting and pulling off his helmet. “No wobbles?”

 “It’s a bit scary when the other bikes get so close when you’re going fast on the highway, but it was OK, I could handle it.”

 “You’ll be fine where you’re going. Hardly any traffic and no major highways, just the single road which only goes half way round the island. You’ll be in your element, and I bet you’ll have all the ladies a-flutter!”

 Bernie smiled shyly. “It’s only one lady I’m interested in”, she said.

 The previous week, Tien had helped her to get her UK driving licence converted to a local one, which included motorcycles as well as cars, so now she was covered if stopped by the police driving a rented bike.

*** 

The flight to Con Son is short but a little bumpy, Serena gripping Bernie’s arm tightly. The landing is spectacular as the small plane circles, banks sharply and comes down onto a tiny strip of green and brown in the midst of a vast blue ocean. As they disembark, they notice the air is much fresher than back in the city, the foliage startlingly green from the monsoon season. The passengers walk into the tiny terminal and wait for the luggage to be delivered. Serena, though by no means an inexperienced traveller, is fascinated by the small scale of the operation and the do-it-yourself aspect. They see their bags coming across the tarmac on the trailer and watch as they are loaded onto the single conveyor.

Outside, a driver with the name of the resort on a board is waiting for them and two other couples and they all climb into a minibus for the short journey to the resort. As they descend the steep road towards Con Son town, Bernie points out a luxury resort nestling below the cliff top.

 “The Six Senses Resort. Apparently, Brangelina stayed here back in 2011 when hardly anyone knew about the place”.

 “Ooh, is that where we’re going?” asks Serena as they approach the gated marble entrance.

 “Sadly not. Somewhat out of my price range”, says Bernie ruefully as the minibus continues on down the hill.

 Once they have arrived and checked into their very pleasant resort, and Serena has inspected the bathroom, bedroom and terrace and dispatched the bellboy, she puts the red “Do Not Disturb” notice on the door and double locks it. When she turns to Bernie, she has a dangerous glint in her eye.

 “What did you have in mind for this evening, Major?” she asks, raising one eyebrow suggestively.

 Bernie comes towards her and puts her hands gently on Serena’s shoulders. “I thought I’d leave it up to you”, she says, looking longingly at Serena’s lips. Serena wastes no time in bringing their lips together, tangling her fingers into that glorious hair and drowning in Bernie’s taste and touch. They stagger backwards towards the bed and Bernie lets herself topple over on her back, Serena on top. Serena keeps hold of Bernie, kissing her as if they have been apart for twenty years rather than fifteen days, and Bernie is beginning to get breathless. Putting her hands on Serena’s hips, she breaks for air, conscious of Serena’s breasts pressed against her own and realising that she is tingling all over and totally aroused.

 For a second she looks into the warmth of Serena’s eyes, and what she sees there surprises her. Serena’s gaze is full of tenderness and desire, welcome but not unexpected, but also a certain trepidation, as if she isn’t quite sure that this real. Serena doesn’t speak but rubs her nose softly against her lover’s and then goes back to kissing her as deeply as possible. Bernie rolls with it, bringing her arms up and around Serena protectively, then moving a hand down to squeeze her bottom, which she has always loved. She senses that Serena wants to take the lead, so she stays on her back as Serena starts moving down Bernie’s body, nipping at her neck and pulling her T-shirt up to scrape her teeth across her nipple through her bra. Bernie gasps and arches under her.

 “Serena”, she groans, pushing Serena’s shirt off her shoulders and trying to free her breasts. Serena pauses to lift off Bernie’s T-shirt and her bra, then she shrugs off her shirt and her own bra. At the sight of her breasts, Bernie whimpers and launches herself at them, sucking and rolling the nipples until Serena is gasping with need, but she pulls herself free and whispers “later, Major”, returning to cover Bernie’s smooth, freckled skin with little kisses and nips, drinking in her natural perfume, unable to get enough. She kisses the soft skin of her stomach and unfastens the button on Bernie’s jeans, sliding down the zip. Inching her fingers inside, her heart pounding with anticipation, she feels Bernie’s sharp intake of breath as her fingers meet the silky texture of her boyshorts and touch the wiry hair below.

 “A little help here”, she mumbles, frantic to get inside. Bernie lifts her hips and slides down the jeans, while Serena immediately cups her over the shorts, feeling the dampness and lowering her nose to breathe in her odour and nudge her clit, which makes Bernie’s breath hitch.

 “God, you smell so good”, Serena moans, reaching up to peel down the shorts and discard them with the jeans. As they are near the end of the bed, Serena slides down to the floor and pulls Bernie’s legs apart, to give her better access. Anticipating her next move, Bernie gasps, bucking her hips, desperate for the first touch. She opens her eyes and looks down towards Serena, who has paused and raised her eyes to Bernie’s. Serena gives her a look filled with so much love and adoration that Bernie thinks her heart will melt, then Serena very deliberately lowers her head and swipes her tongue over Bernie’s sex, giving strong, sure strokes up and down as Bernie cries out and gasps “Serena please”, until she gradually moves her tongue closer and closer to her clit, all around and under and then right over, while Bernie bucks her hips and Serena has to put  a hand up to keep her in place as she moves in for the finale, using her tongue to push inside Bernie while her nose rubs her clit until she can feel Bernie straining for release, then sucking on her clit in short, sharp order until she can feel her coming apart. Serena keeps her face there, nuzzling her sex, lapping up her juices, kissing her softly all over and on her velvet smooth inner thighs, until Bernie tugs at her, “Come here”, and Serena moves up the bed, heading for Bernie’s mouth.

 “Welcome back”, Bernie whispers, causing a now misty-eyed Serena to take her head in her hands and kiss her passionately so that she can taste her own juices in the other woman’s mouth.

 For the first time in almost a year, Bernie can feel Serena's  sincerity and her total love and respect for Bernie flowing back, cutting through the barrier which separated them after Elinor died, a wall composed of Serena’s grief, followed by Bernie’s despair and struggle to regain her self-confidence.  Bernie has the sensation that they are seeing one another clearly again, the vibe they had before Elinor’s accident now stronger than ever.

 “I love you so much, Major. Never doubt that”, Serena whispers.

 “I love you too”, Bernie replies. “I always have. I just wanted to be sure that what we had before wasn’t my imagination, that it was real, could be real, could absorb all that misery and stand strong”.

 “And what’s your conclusion now?” asks Serena tenderly.

 “Oh we’re getting there, just need a bit more practice to be sure”, smiles Bernie flipping Serena over and pinning her to the mattress.

There is a storm which rolls in late in the evening, punctuating the night with flashes of lightning and the low drum roll of thunder, but by morning the sky is clear and blue.

 Over breakfast on the hotel terrace in front of the ocean, Bernie – who, now fully restored to health, is back to eating pineapple- gets all mysterious when Serena asks what the plan of the day is. Apparently, the morning is the best time to swim, so they wander down to the beach in their swimwear and frolic in the sea, lying back in the waves, enjoying the feeling of being on holiday, the warmth of the sun and with only a few people around.

 “It’s low season”, says Bernie, “still rainy season so it might get overcast later.”

 When they come out of the water and lie on the sun loungers, Bernie pretends to be reading her iPad so that Serena will read her Kindle. Once she sees that she is absorbed in her book, Bernie scrambles to her feet and pulls on her kimono, grabbing the small bag she has brought with her.

 “Back in a mo”, she says, scooting off before Serena can ask where she is going. Ten minutes later she’s back with a glint in her eye.

 “Where have you been?” is the predictable question.

 “Ah, bit of a surprise. Look, it’s almost 11, don’t want to get cooked out here. Let’s get changed and start Part 2 of the day.”

 Serena is intrigued. She imagines Bernie has booked them a tour or something and is selecting a sundress to wear when Bernie tells her to wear shorts or long pants, preferably the latter. Even more mystified, Serena selects a pair of lightweight Thai patterned trousers with a drawstring waist and a black vest top. Bernie grabs a long sleeved white shirt and hands it to her with no explanation. She herself is in long chino shorts and a white vest top, a pale blue short sleeved shirt on top. As they get to the main reception area of the resort, Bernie leads her outside to where a sparkling clean PCX motorbike is parked. There’s a man standing next to it who gives each woman a helmet and hands Bernie the key. He seems nervous.

 “This number one moto”, he says. “You careful”.

 “I’m very careful”, Bernie reassures him, while Serena looks on in a mixture of fascination and horror.

 “Bernie”, she says in a warning voice. “What are you doing?”

 Bernie is astride the Honda, helmet on, kicking up the stand, pushing it back to face the exit.

 "Hop on”, she says, grinning. “I do know how to ride and I even have a licence.”

 Serena is somewhat reluctant at first but she doesn’t want to make a fuss or show Bernie that she doesn’t trust her, so she also dons the helmet and the white shirt and climbs on behind Bernie.

She clutches Bernie tightly round the waist as they set off. Bernie first makes a gentle circuit of the little town, noting the location of several cafes and the market, then she takes the coast road. As they leave civilisation behind, Serena starts to relax. The bike is smooth and comfortable, like Pilou’s, and Bernie seems confident and is driving carefully.

 “Where are we going?” she shouts

 “Wait and see”, laughs Bernie. So Serena wraps her arms tighter round Bernie’s waist and lays her head against her back, drinking in the smell of seasalt and sunscreen and just Bernie as the woman she loves more than anything in the world accelerates up the steep hill, taking her on a tour of the island.

 

**Serena**

_I had forgotten how good it feels to just drive in the sun and the air, with no specific destination,_ writes Serena later in the blog she has set up for Jason, Cameron and Charlotte to keep up with their adventures.

  _Con Dao is lovely, but it isn’t all sun and fun. There’s a dark and nasty past. The French used it as a penal colony for Vietnamese who were against them and there’s a prison, which is horrible, showing the different kinds of torture they inflicted on people. Also a shrine to a young lady called Vo Thi Sau who was captured by the French at the age of 16 and executed 3 years later on Con Dao. You see her name all over the place in the street names in cities, apparently. People believe her spirit can bring good luck so they go to the shrine to worship._

_Anyway, that was Day One. Not forgetting a delicious lunch at a little seafood shack. Bernie’s an excellent driver, and now I love the motorbike rides. I’m also getting a fabulous tan!_

Serena doesn’t think it appropriate to mention that on the ride back to the resort she had so aroused Bernie by “accidentally” stroking her breasts and caressing her inner thigh, with Bernie warning her that she might lose control of the bike if Serena continued, that they had to retire to their room for at least 90 minutes before either was presentable for dinner.

 By the time they are heading back to the airport on Sunday afternoon, Serena has enjoyed snorkelling, fishing and  visits to various Buddhist temples, as well as motorbiking all round the island, and this combined with long lazy evenings with plenty of Shiraz and a big comfortable bed has left her very mellow indeed. She is aware that Bernie has put a lot of effort into planning and arranging everything, and she is both impressed and deeply touched. Never once has Bernie’s attention switched from her, she has completely lost the spaced out look she had in Bangkok and during her attachment in Bangladesh. Serena feels a deep, powerful contentment. Memories of Elinor will always be there but the love of her partner, her rock, is the most precious thing she has. She shudders to think she might almost have thrown it away.

  **Bernie**

“So I write the afterword – is that it?” 

 “No, darling, it’s just that I started the blog under my name so it comes first. Your contribution is equally valid.”

 “Hmm”, says Bernie, promptly copying all the links to the sites she researched for their tours to Jason, who will get them and ask her a million questions later. Then she writes:

  _Serena, who has told you most of the news, is a better writer than me, but just let me add to her account that one can never forget one is in Vietnam- sunscreen and mozzie repellent being absolutely de rigeur at all times when outside. Which is why, when Serena fell asleep on her front, she got sunburned on her thighs and back and also got bitten by the greediest mozzie on Con Dao on her left buttock cheek. Don’t tell her I told you!_

“Bernie”, protests Serena, “do your kids and Jason really need that information?”

 “Maybe not but it’s entertaining, and you told them everything else so what’s left for me to say?”

 Serena shifts uncomfortably on her left bum cheek. Then she laughs.

 “I do love you, you know! And you have no idea how sexy you look on that motorbike! I’m going to paste a huge pic of you on my office wall,” and she shows her a picture she took on her iPhone. Now it’s Bernie’s turn to frown.

 They are having dinner on their last evening, sitting on the terrace of their hotel, enjoying the most succulent fresh grilled fish with Vietnamese dips and salad and little crunchy spring rolls.

 “God, I love these things”, moans Serena, drenching another of the tasty little morsels in _nuoc mam_ sauce and sighing deeply. Bernie is entranced by her delight.

 “I’m just so happy that we found a resort with a fantastic restaurant”, she says, “although I must say I think a nice Sauvignon Blanc…”

 “Yes, yes,” interrupts Serena. “I take the point. But for me there is only Shiraz. So if we’re not doing a bottle each,”

 “…it has to be Shiraz”, they both conclude.

 Bernie throws her napkin at Serena, then she looks at her seriously and reaches to take her hand, stroking her fingers where her wedding ring once was.

 “Serena, I need to tell you that this has been one of the best holidays of my life. I planned this to see if we could reconnect. Not necessarily in the same way as before, but..taking our new circumstances into account.”

 “And?”

 “And I think it works. Maybe even better than before. I love you more than anything in the world. All I want is to stay with you and continue this life”.

 “For how long?”

 “Is forever too long?”

 “No, darling, forever is just fine with me.”

 Bernie squeezes Serena’s hand.  “Then that’s settled”, she says.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	13. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fitting end to our story of the two reconciled surgeons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't resist adding this happy little ending, but if bits of fluff are not your thing do by all means give it a miss!

**3 months later. Lunchtime, French International Hospital canteen.**

_Bernie:_ Did Serena really agree to go to that yoga class with you tonight?

 _Pilou_ _(laughing):_ Yes, she did. She said that if big hairy guys like me can do it then so can she.

 _Bernie:_ Well I never thought she’d join Tien and me with the kick boxing, but at least yoga is a start.

 _Pilou:_ Must be that rela-a-a-axed feeling you get from yoga. Don’t you think? I find it quite a turn on!

 _Bernie:_ Don’t you start! How did you explain that I wouldn’t be there tonight?

 _Pilou:_   I said you and Tien had decided to take an extra kick boxing class. Hey, actually, I think you guys are perfectly matched.  Same sort of size and weight- he’s a tad shorter and a bit more muscular, but I bet you can kick some ass, too. He’s wicked when he gets going.

 _Bernie:_ He is indeed, but the workouts are really good for me. _(A bit misty-eyed)_ He reminds me of my brother who died in Iraq- the first war, that is. You’re lucky, Pilou, Tien’s a keeper.

 _Pilou:_   You don’t need to tell me that. And so is Serena.

 _Rising from the table and putting his hand up to high five Bernie._ Catch you later, B. Good luck!

 _Bernie:_ Cheers! And delay Serena for as long as possible, OK? Give her a massage or something!

_Pilou departs with a cheeky grin._

 

  **3 hours later, driving in Tien’s car.**

  _Tien taps the dashboard and indicates a woman on a bicycle who abruptly decides to change lanes and cut in front of them. Bernie reacts instantly to slow and edge around her. They smile at each other._

 _Bernie:_ Think I’m getting the hang of this.

 _Tien_ : _Quoi?_

 _Bernie: Je m’habitue à _ _conduire au Vietname_.

 _Tien:_ Sure, Bernie, you drive good now. Look, airport on left.

  _Bernie turns left into the airport parking lot. She pulls up and jumps out. Tien takes the wheel and goes to park the vehicle._

 _Bernie:_ I’ll call you, OK, when we’re ready?

 _Tien:_ OK, Bernie.

  _Bernie’s stomach is churning. The board says the flight has landed, and Bernie knows the luggage can be slow, so she waits as closely to the exit door as possible._

  _Bernie:_   Cameron!   _(pushing towards the front of the crowd)._

 _Cameron:_ Madre!  ( _hugging her)_

 _Bernie:_   Morven – What a surprise!  Charlie! And Jason, oh this is amazing!

 _Jason:_ Auntie Bernie! It was a fascinating flight- I could track the plane all the way using the flight map, and I could also log onto the internet to research the places we passed over.  But is it true that Auntie Serena doesn’t know I’m here?

 _Bernie_ _(looking at Cameron):_ Well, Jason, we wanted to give Serena a surprise. She knows that Cameron and Charlotte are coming but not you or Morven. So I have arranged everything for your stay, and Serena doesn’t know yet. She thinks the others are coming tomorrow so tonight is a surprise for her.

 _Jason:_   But will she be angry, Auntie Bernie?

 _Bernie:_ No, no Jason, she’ll be really, really happy. Having our family here for the wedding is very important to both of us. She just didn’t think you would want to come such a long way.

 _Jason:_   I wouldn’t have missed it for the world!

_(Everyone laughs)_

**40 minutes later**

  _Bernie:_ OK guys, this is the villa I booked for you. Three bedrooms. Cameron and Morven in the master bedroom, Jason- this is yours, and Charlie next door.

  _Charlotte:_ What a great place. This is awesome, Mum! And my own bathroom, wow!

  ** _Bernie sending message to Serena:_**

_Hope the class was good! Dinner at The Boathouse? Too lazy to cook.  I’m just on the way back so pick you up at 7.30? xxx_

**_Serena texts back:_ **

_Sounds good, but I’m so sleepy after yoga- could do with an early night once we finish dinner. See you at 7.30. Don’t be late!_

_Bernie:_ Right, don’t want to hurry you but we have a table booked so you have 20 minutes to shower and change, OK? Cameron, you have the plan and the house keys. The restaurant is five minutes from here. You make your own way, I have to pick up Serena. See you in about 30 minutes, OK?

**20 minutes later, weaving along the road on Bernie’s new Honda.**

  _Bernie:_ Serena! Stop groping me or I’ll crash the bike.

 _Serena:_ Oh this yoga is sooo good. I feel mmm, so relaxed. Do we have to have dinner? Can’t I just fuck you senseless right here?

 _Bernie: (under her breath) For goodness sake!_ I can’t hear a thing you’re saying, so wait till we get to the restaurant.

  _They park and go into the restaurant.  Bernie’s heart is pounding. She has booked a big table outside, overlooking the river, so she leads Serena through the garden entrance_.

  _Serena:_ Why are we going this way?

  _Jason, Cameron, Morven, Charlotte:_  Surprise! _(Jumping up)_

 _Serena_ ( _nearly falling down):_ My goodness, Jason, is that really you? And Morven? Cam and Charlie! Oh my God, Bernie, you devious minx!”

  _Serena, totally overwhelmed, hugs Jason and the others, crying. Bernie hugs Charlotte and Morven and ruffles Cameron’s hair, patting Jason on the back._

 _Restaurant manager:  (coming out to see what is going on)_ Someone’s birthday?

  _Bernie:_ No, family reunion.

  _Serena:_   I thought you two were coming tomorrow  _(to Cam and Charlie)_  and I had NO IDEA about you two  _(indicating Jason and Morven)._

  _Restaurant manager:_ Well, this is obviously a special occasion. Can I offer you a bottle of champagne on the house?

  _Serena:_   Make that Shiraz, and thanks very much, that’s most generous!

 

**4 hours later. In bed at Serena and Bernie’s apartment.**

_Bernie (panting):_ God that was awesome! If that’s what yoga does to you, let’s increase it to 3 times a week!

 _Serena_ _(also panting) :_ Mmm. I never thought it was possible to love you more than I already do, but you’ve surpassed yourself, Major! Whatever did I do to deserve such an amazing partner?”

 _Bernie:_ It’s actually Cam you have to thank. He made all the arrangements and helped Jason get himself ready and psyched up for the journey. Charlie said he even spent the whole journey helping Jason research the countries they were passing over so he wouldn’t feel anxious at being in the air for so long. And you can thank Charlie and Morven for Jason’s new tropical holiday wardrobe!

 _Serena:_   Bless them! They’re every bit as wonderful as their Mum!”

 _Bernie:  chuckles, then falls silent._ I know Ellie would have wanted to be here, too.

_Serena’s eyes fill with tears and she hugs Bernie to her._

_Serena: S_ he wouldn’t have missed this for anything. Think of all the selfies she would have posted on Twittergram or whatever!

  _Crying and laughing_ , _Bernie and Serena fall asleep in each others’ arms._

  

**2 days later. 6.30 am**

Bernie wakes slowly with the sun filtering through the blinds. She turns to look at Serena sleeping peacefully by her side, emitting little snuffles, her bleached crop endearingly mussed. Bernie feels her throat seize up. She never thought this day would come, when she would be able to plant her flag in Serena’s backyard and stop running. Forever. She is gripped by a wave of intense emotion as she looks at her lover, soon to be her wife, and thinks of their children waiting to celebrate with them.

 

**12.30 pm**

The taxi bringing Bernie and Serena back from the British Consulate stops outside in the lane, and Connie runs to open the gates of The Chill Bar which has been closed today for all but the special guests.

 Inside, tables are laid out for lunch, the courtyard is decorated and there is a huge banner wishing the happy couple a long and prosperous life together. Frieda is preparing the drinks and nibbles, and Connie’s staff are stationed around the tables. As Bernie and Serena get out of the car, with Jason and Cameron, their witnesses at the ceremony in the Consulate, a huge cheer goes up from the gathered friends and relatives. Pilou and Tien have handed out confetti and now handfuls of this, and grains of rice, shower the couple as they come, blushing and beaming into the courtyard to cheers and whoops from the assorted friends, relatives and colleagues. Camera phones flash and everyone is talking loudly, while Frieda and the staff circulate trays of champagne, Shiraz, and Perrier water with lime for the non-drinkers. Charlotte quietly fetches Jason a glass of orange juice.

 Cameron is about to call for quiet and a toast when an older, very dignified lady in a Chanel suit comes forward and raises her hand. There is a gasp from some junior doctors who recognise their CEO, Marie-Paule Richard.

 “Dearest friends”, she begins in her careful, measured English. “It is the greatest honour today for me to welcome our first same -sex married couple to the French International Hospital. We are an equal opportunities employer and we encourage all our staff to be themselves and to respect and care for each other regardless of race, religion, gender, sexual orientation, physical ability or anything else that may present a barrier in these uncertain times. While your status may not be recognised or applauded everywhere outside these walls, let me just say on behalf of the hospital that we are proud that two of our finest surgeons have chosen to create a stable union that will only benefit us and present a positive role model to our staff and to the world.

 Berenice and Serena- congratulations and may you have a long and happy life together! “

 She raises her glass and voices join in “Bernie and Serena!” and they drink.

 But Marie-Paule hasn't yet finished. “And on behalf of our absent friend, Henrik Hanssen, I have been asked to present you with this token of his good wishes”. She steps back and waves her arms to indicate a beautiful display of pink, white and yellow roses on a stand in the corner. Everyone claps and cheers, and Marie-Paule turns, smiling, sipping her champagne.

 Bernie and Serena are overwhelmed and have so far not had a chance to say anything. Before either of them can react, Cam steps forward, holding Morven by the hand.

 “Mums, before we start the party, Morven and I have an announcement to make that we hope will make this day even more special for you. You’re going to be grandmothers!”

 Serena is thunderstruck, but as the meaning hits her, tears well up in her eyes and she throws her arms around Morven while Bernie embraces Cam, then they swap over, kissing and hugging while the crowd goes wild.

 In the doorway, Frieda feels for Connie’s fingers and gives a squeeze, as they exchange a secret smile.

**5pm**

Serena sits back in her chair, feeling a yawn creeping up on her. They’ve had amazing food, far too much wine, singing and dancing, speeches, flowers, presents, and now all she wants is to be alone with Bernie. She looks around to see where she is. Over to her right she sees Jason, entrusted with supervision of one year old Joel, Vero and Nick’s son. Joel’s face and Jason’s shirt are covered with what Serena can only hope is melted chocolate. Further round, Morven and Vero are talking animatedly about pregnancy. Cameron has struck up a conversation with one of the junior Vietnamese doctors, and Charlotte is helping Frieda and Connie clear the tables and prepare for an evening event. Finally, Serena spots Bernie- playing what looks to be poker with Nick, Tien and Pilou. Bernie’s face is flushed, there is a glass of whisky by her side, a cigarette burning on the ashtray and her white shirt is open revealing a lacy camisole underneath. There is a large pile of notes in front of her. Serena  smiles to herself and wobbles over to them on her heels, looking down the front of Bernie’s open shirt.

 “That had better not be strip poker!”

 Everyone laughs, then Nick says “For God’s sake, Serena take your wife away before she bankrupts us!”

 Bernie smirks, scoops up the notes with a wink at Pilou and pockets them as she stands up.

 “Come on then, Mrs Wolfe”, and she kisses Serena gently on the lips and takes her hand.

They walk to the gate, waving to the group still there, Bernie calling up the taxi app on her phone.

 “That”, announces Serena contentedly “was possibly the best day of my life so far! But the day is not yet over. Take me home to bed, Mrs. Wolfe!”

 


End file.
